Escapade 5: Stressful Situation
It hurt. His nerves were screaming,
crying, tearing at his attention. And with grim determination, Roth smiled.
This was his element.
With two men down, four still
surrounded him. All had knives, and determined looks upon their concealed
visages. He could assume they used the Philippine sword art of Kali, judging
from their stances, their swords, their outfits. Identical to their pursuers,
the all black armor was light, close-fitting, durable material- meant for
stealth; built on the presupposition that every encounter's result would be a
success. Their faces were covered with the exception of their eyes- He was
essentially dealing with ninjas.
Thinking quickly, Roth managed to
swipe the matching knives off of the unconscious enemies behind him. Taking off
the heavy shield he assessed that his knowledge of Kali was not as extensive as
what would've been preferred for this particular venture, but- with a quick
prayer for a miraculous turnout- it would have to make do.
Instead of waiting to be forced into
defense, Roth went on the offense, which subsequently took his enemies off
guard- he struck the closest on his left, guarding his injured arm to avenge it
with his right. By the time he managed to disable the opposed- his utensils
clattering down as James gave a foot to his gut- the others had recovered and
now were set upon him.
Simultaneously dodging and blocking
advances from the sides, the impromptu warrior sliced at the knees of a third,
only to be blocked ferociously. Quick timing lent him an opening to bash the
end of his stolen knife against a poorly armed head- at any later second, Roth
would've been missing his good arm.
He could feel the blood dribbling
down the other- and briefly wondered; would he have enough in him to deal with
the other two? Not to mention the primary pursuers now three-quarters down the
stairway. The fact that he could even feel the injury so instantly meant it
probably wasn't deep, yet-
The sound of a gunshot rang out.
The groan of an adversary behind him prompted Roth to swing a hook kick across
his face. A quick glance downward, and he was rewarded with the sight of a
bullet wound in the side. A rush of air preceded a girlish scream, and Roth
turned around to find Duchess tearing into the last foe.
"Come on!" Korrigan clipped
past him with pistol in hand, most undoubtedly filched from the unconscious by
the stairway. He followed her to an open door, at which point Korrigan took the
opportunity to swing around and aim a shot the ninjas on the stairs- right in
the shoulder. The escaping party didn't bother to stick around as the injured
pursuer sank knees at the bottom of his course.
"Ack! Owowowoowwoow." He
blubbered as his fellow kneeled down beside him. She was about to say something
when a static crackling caught her attention.
"Hello?" She asked into a
cell phone, ".....No, they're gone....a dog...my men are injured! ....No
fatalities, seems like pretty boy didn't have any intention to kill. They still
going to need time to recover- Albert may need a rabies shot...yes, I
understand, sir." A quick clik!
and the conversation ended
"What'd the boss say?"
The injured groaned as his superior pressed at his shoulder to stop the
bleeding.
"That medical help is on the way. And that we may have to prepare for phase one a little quicker than I would've wanted."
***
The rest of the mansion was quiet,
and disturbingly uneventful. Handing the gun to James, Korrigan made a quick
raid through a small bathroom on the first floor, thankfully finding a
treasured medical kit, supplied with the things she frantically searched for.
“Give me your arm.” Even as he put
the acquired weapons in the adjacent sink, James’ left arm was snatched from
his possession into Laurel’s diligent hands, trailing blood down his sleeve and
across his vest- it complimented the lip stain still on the dark grey article.
Rolling the sleeve back, both were rewarded with the sight of a thin slit,
welling up with red, just before reaching his elbow. The cut was, thankfully,
away from any major veins- Laurel let go of a breath she wasn’t aware she was
holding.
“Do you suppose it might need
stitching?”
“No, it’s pretty-“ Korrigan
stopped, halting her assessment to look up and find a smile playing on his
lips. With a firm scowl, she tore open the bandage packaging and began to clean
his arm. “You have terrible timing for humor.”
“Isn’t humor the best sort of
remedy?” A whine elicited from Duchess, who stood guard vigilantly at the
bathroom door. James himself tensed up at the stinging contact, yet never lost
his amused smile.
“Not when we’re running for our
lives.” She finished wrapping the injury in gauze and bandages and tossed the
kit back under the sink, where it had been found. Taking back the gun, a
careful peek about the doorway showed an all clear. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on a moment.” Roth tugged at
her, pointing to a door clearly marked, GARAGE. His smile grew even wider.
There we are, a post that took me more than a week to try and choreograph(This is mostly due to finals and such). I wanted to make it a bit longer than the usual 550 words, give or take a few ten. It's probably going to get even longer in the future. Sorry for the wait everybody. In the art section, you can check out a slight redesign of Laurel( 'cus originally, her face was too long.) Please tell me what you thought of this section!
-Writing Wolf
