Chase had opened his mouth to reply to both men, but took a step back the instant he heard footsteps again. This was going to be bad, he knew it, but for everything he might have been expecting, the man in the mask sure as hell wasn't it.
The instant he saw the canister he moved to protect his eyes. Shouting for Noah to look out, though the sound cut off the instant he felt the mace hit his throat. He wasn't the prime target, he knew that, and fuck if that didn't make it so much worse.
"Leave him alo-," was all he could manage before he felt a hand around his throat, and the wall slamming against his head. He kicked out with one toward Simms' shins, even as his hand swung up with the shard of plastic, and he felt it sink in once, maybe twice in what seemed like Simms' armpit. He managed to hold on through the first punch, the second one dazing him enough as a blaze of pain washed over him that he dropped the weapon from limp fingers.
"Simms!" He heard the shout as if through water from down the hall. Oliver, maybe? It became hard to tell as is gasps for breath turned into coughs, his mouth filling with what tasted an awful lot like blood.