Entry Post!

[dead_comrade]

His entrance was painful even by sudden teleportation standards. One moment, there was a cool post-apocalyptic evening. The next, there was a flare of heat and fire, and a man flying backwards from about a story off the street. He landed heavily on his back, where he stayed, his arm a white-orange spray of chitin and bone lying over the ground

Comments

[dead_comrade]

Krauser flicks the arm closed a little more and back open with a sound like a very sharp pair of shears working. It's a substitute for the speech that's totally deserted him. It's his first good look at Harth, and those yellow eyes and fangs and the mention of demons--

He actually died and now he's in hell.

Harth seems cranky. Good for him. Krauser's enraged.

Leon sent him to hell.

Las Plagas is doing its strained best to patch up the bite, which at least wasn't made worse by having to drag those flattened fangs out, but there's still orange blood flowing over his collarbone. His head's aching. His heart's pounding--he thought sending the plaga out was going to kill him. Considering his strength, Harth could probably finish him off with a well-slung pillow.

But he's not done.

He's got two flash grenades. Just two.

And now he's got one. He's got his eyes shut and behind a lifted arm as soon as it hits the dirt, where it obediently goes off. A creature, even a demonic one, who needs glasses probably will be influenced by that.

And he's kicking for the open wound in Harth's gut, because at this point, he hates him just that much. Considering the demon's speed and the light, there may be a lot of staggering around going on--he still wants to take a shot at hurting him again.

[harth_fray]

That sound Harth makes as he realizes oh god he's trying to blow me up is a gasp. He backpeddals abruptly, leaping with skill at a building-- and then the FLASH happens and his eyes are OPEN.

And hen's trying to keep ahold of his purchae on the roof, scrambling up to throw his glasses away, howling with the agony of burned retinas. "You rutting pump, I'll kill you!"

When he can SEE YOU.

"Rutting-- you've taken my eyes, you toy-eating bastard!"

[dead_comrade]

He thinks he can make the jump onto the roof after him. He would just love to try to get up there and take a shot at spitting the demon.

It's not sanity that intervenes. It's logistics. He's simply too hurt to swing the arm many more times before his heart does something very final. And he wants to hurt the demon much, much more than just a few stabs.

He takes a parting shot with a thrown piece of rubble, but the plaga's curled in his chest cavity again and he's moving away as fast as he can, one hand clapped over his heart.

It's not like he doesn't have one last flashbang grenade. There will be a better time.

. . . unless he meets those 'magog' creatures.

This is just not a good day.