Re: In New York City...
He holds the blade to her throat until she's no longer conscious.
"The Lord Apocalypse will be pleased." he says, looking Theresa over with a cold sort of admiration - less like she's a naked, beautiful woman, and more like she's a naked, blank canvas. He crouches, running the edge of one blade over her skin, not enough to cut, but still the lovely feel of his bonded blades on flesh.
He traces one gentle curve with the very knife's edge, then remembers his mission and picks her up.
"Ready for teleport? Call it in, I have her."
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