Foidanon tries to post but she is too slow, all too slow to outrun what you are. Before she can even finish the second captcha your mace catches her mid scroll, hurling her across the room as a mist of blood fogs the aid. She attempts to rise as if oblivious to the fact she is already doomed. Your steps towards her are like meteors bombarding the surface of some primordial world, heralding the end of her era and the beginning of yours. Shakily, she rises to her knees, only for your gauntlet to descend on her like a comet out of deep space. She still thinks she can do it, she still thinks she can post her BPD baitpost. You almost pity her, but pity is beneath a being such as you. You don't even give her a chance to try and rise again, and you doubt if she could anyways the way blood spurts from her mouth in fitful coughs. You grip the deceiver by her throat and begin to squeeze, wondering if any white knight anons plan to stop you.
