Feather Quill in an Ink Pot

"Lisa Greenway," the man with the gun drawled, "I never would have guessed it was you behind all this. Well played indeed." Lisa's ankle was in agony, probably sprained, and she was definitely cornered on the roof of the 65-story office building where she spent the majority of her days. "You know what," he continued, "I think I'll just kill you and get it over with." He raised his pistol and pointed it at her chest.

I'm not feeling very creative today...