Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your
contribution is not tax-deductible.)
PayPal Acct: 
Feedback: 
Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):
| [ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1] ] |
| He'd been glaring daggers at the back of Derek's neck, waiting for the man to turn around and throw a punch. But Des's words pulled him up short, causing him to pause as confusion slipped into his brain. There was no way she'd just said what he'd thought she'd said! He'd heard her wrong, he had to have. It made no sense at all for those words to come out of her mouth... But the next two words had his brain back on the job. He dodged and spun, hands already raised to deflect a blow. Sharp pain shot through his side, and on sheer reflex, his fist shot out and landed square on Marks nose, smashing it and sending a fountain of blood spraying both men. His fist shot out again and again till his attacker was down, then he stepped back and looked down at his side. He wasn't shocked to see the red blossom forming on his white shirt, but a small voice somewhere deep in his bran said "Fuck me... Not again" Already bloodied hand reached down to pull the knife from his side, ignoring the throbbing pain as he turned back towards the suv. He took two steps forward, slower than he would have liked, and slammed the blade into the back of the mans thigh. He immediately yanked it back out and tossed it away, knowing it could just as easily end up in him yet again as in the other guy. The wound wasn't fatal, unless you didn't get the bleeding stopped. But it was nowhere near the femoral artery, and so the kid wouldn't bleed out before the wound could be seen to. With a snarl, El grabbed the back of the guys shirt, yanking him back and off Des. Clearly he wasn't getting the message that this was all but over, he'd lost. His 'crew' was down for the count and he was about to be pounded into the ground. Though he didn't like the way his side was going cold, or how his left leg was beginning to tremble, he advanced on Derek. Even if he'd wanted to throw insults, beat the man down verbally as well as physically, he couldn't summon the words. That part of his brain was off, the only part still running full steam was the primal fight center. That fight or flight thing. Yay, he'd never had the urge to flee, not once. |
.twenty.two. .6'4". brown hair .brown eyes. .scar on left cheek. .Ford F-100 Cruiser. Dove Grey .Marine Scout Sniper. .Gunnery Sergeant. .Third Tour of Duty. |
|
Forum timezone: GMT-8 VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB: Before posting please read our privacy policy. VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems. Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved. |