Nine has been shocked before, not an inconsiderable number of times herself. The psychological aggression experiments were always the ones she hated the most, because there was nothing to make it stop, no rhyme or reason to its application that she could see. Here, now, there is. She can stop this. And that very same familiarity with being shocked means that tactic is not nearly so effective on her.

Her pain tolerance is already substantial, and adrenaline tears through the rest. As she steps forward with bared teeth, hand raised, her collar goes off, but it barely slows her down. Nine's outstretched hand goes straight for Galen's neck, grabbing him and yanking him up into the air, the abrupt cutting off of his air making him drop Miles's arm and angrily flail against her. The contact transmits the electricity straight through her to her choking captive; his limbs jerk in the air.

It cuts off abruptly.

"Shock me again and I'll tear his throat out before it reaches him," she snarls. "The little clone is mine-- you can't hurt him." But even now, Nine is not a berserker; her gold eyes flash hot, but her words are flat as she goes on, "Miles. Take that weapon from him." Her mind is working at lightning speed, jolted from complacent and sloth-like in subdued apathy to vicious protectiveness. Three guards. That's no problem. Nine has killed fodder like them before in tests plenty of times-- and this one is already in her grasp.

It's Miles she's worried about. They can stop this right here if they think to use him against her.