Rinse, Repeat

[Super Llama†]

Noah's mind was clouded with rage. He had just tried to kill them all a moment ago, and now THIS. That motherfucker had to pay. He pulled the kunai from Harry's shoulder and got ready to stab him again, when the light eminating from the object hung from his neck distracted him. He looked down to see what looked like a map of the area, with two red dots where Harry and him were, and three other dots moving away from the building. What the hell? The distraction cooled him down just enough to realize the situation he was in. Though he had succeeded in buying the others time to escape, he would certainly have a hard time getting out of this without accumulating more injuries. Or worse. I'll have to try and knock him out, or...

Suddenly, Harry tried to roll Noah off of him. With the pack on Noah's back, rolling him over completely would be difficult, but all he had to to was move him enough to point the shotgun at him and it would all be over. Shit! Moving quickly, Noah reached back for the other kunai and slashed at Harry's hand that was holding onto the shotgun, hoping it would distract him long enough, and scrambled back up, running behind the building as quickly as he could. Soon, he noticed Dennis' harpoon nearby, right next to his corpse. Well, it's better than what I have right now. Knowing that Harry would soon be coming around the corner to finish the job, he shoved one of the kunai hastily into his pocket (somehow managing not to stab himself in the process,) before dashing over and snatching up the weapon, tearing off into the brush in the direction he had seen the three dots going on Harry's little device. Asshole's got himself a GPS or something... He thought as he ran. I just hope they're alright.

{{continued elsewhere}}

[Cyco†]

Harry's actions were ignored and somehow Noah ended up scrambling backward, slashing at him with another knife. Fortunately, because Harry ignored Noah's actions as well, it missed.

Harry's shoes slid a bit in the wet grass as he rolled onto his stomach and went frantically to get up. Finally he made it to his feet, and he let out a frustrated growl as he swung the shotgun upward and squeezed off a pot shot, which clipped the brick of the shower building as the boy sped away.

In a second he was alone, breathing heavily, the fresh stabwound burning his shoulder. He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes, the Jackhammer feeling heavier than it should have in his tightly-clenched hand. He grabbed the GPS with his free hand and took a look, but all the other dots had hauled ass out of there.

"...Fuck!"

((continued in Freiheit Something-Something))