Another strangled grunt escaped Scar's throat as Loki's knife sliced deeply into his legs. He fell to his knees once again, this time out of pain rather than loss of balance. His grip on his flashlight and scalpel fumbled when he landed, leaving him unarmed and helpless for a moment. Sweat trailed down his temples as he fumbled in the poor lighting for the tiny knife.

Regaining himself, Scar tried to jump to his feet. He knew Loki would be on top of him within seconds, but his legs burned when he tried to stand. The Ishbalan pushed himself up with his arms, teeth grit and brow furrowed against the pain. He turned once again to face he other man, completely clueless as to where he actually was. His balance was terrible, the muscles in the back of his legs rendered useless as he leaned forward slighty to ease the pressure. There was no way he could fight like this.