The first time he struck down on her fingers, she pushed out her claws in retaliation, to try and get a better grip. The second time, she was sure she felt something break in her hand. And the third time, with the glass digging into her skin and the numbness in her fingertips, she couldn't stop herself from losing her grip. Her claws raked down the side of the building and she cried out once more, pain shooting up her hands and into her arms.

Instincts took over. She twisted in the air, not unlike a cat, in an effort to land on something better than her back or her head. She succeeded, landing on her feet--

And immediately lost her footing, falling backwards, her back and head striking the pavement. It could have been worse, of course, but it was enough to stun her and send the world on its axis, spots flying in front of her eyes. Pain shot up her body. Shit--!