damned_institute | Nightshift 27: M61

The fact that he hit was enough to put a smirk back on Kimbley's face. As soon as Greed let him go, he pulled back - retaliation was definitely coming up soon - but the fact that there was a sudden clicking not too far down the hallway seemed to distract Greed from that fact. Something was coming - another monster, something small and probably not a threat.

He couldn't see it, considering that his flashlight was halfway down the hall and probably in pieces, but there was definitely something there. With more than two legs. Drawn by the smell of blood or the sound of a fight ...

"Good," Kimbley said, keeping his distance and snatching another pen from his pocket. (This time, he'd get him in the eye.) "Monsters would prefer monster blood, I bet."

They were barely moving, they weren't even trying to run. Perhaps they underestimated, but it didn't really matter. If they stayed put, it would be easy to get a hit in. Its venom would incapacitate them (or at least one of the two--there was no guarantee that it could get both), and then they would have no hope of getting away...

One was injured now, attacked by its own kind. That could make matters a good deal simpler, and the scorpion knew for certain which patient it was going to attempt to attack first. Always aim for the weak.

Perhaps it wasn't big, but it was much bigger than it was supposed to be--and its stinger was more than large enough.

It was closing in, near enough that it would be visible.

"Yeah, real funny, jackass." Greed retorted, and though the scorpion that approached them wasn't too intimidating in size, the homunculus wasn't sure what kind of nasty poison it was secreting in its all-too-big stinger. After all, he'd never had to worry about the prospect of deathly injury before, and he wasn't too keen on finding out what it entailed.

The fact that this whole turn of events would probably end with Kimbley getting away was far too clear. Greed grit his teeth as he saw the bomber grabbing for another pen, and though his arm hurt with the same kind of human pain that he had felt when those dogs ripped a chunk out of his shoulder, he knew he couldn't let the Kimbley best him and get away. He'd have to tackle this head on, literally, and Greed never had a problem with that.

He glanced at the scorpion heading their way and then lunged at Kimbley, throwing a punch at his face with his good hand.

Because Greed struck with his fist instead of just flat-out charging him, Kimbley couldn't just jerk his arm forward and ram the pen through the bastard's skull. Still didn't make much difference; he was far enough away that he saw the punch coming and was able to shift down and to the side enough to avoid it.

As he did so, he caught sight of the clicking thing that was approaching them.

He'd been in Ishbal. He'd seen the scorpions and tarantulas there, crawling across the desert sands and getting into fights with each other and the lizards that sometimes appeared out from under the sand dunes. They'd all been warned upon arrival about checking their gear every morning to make sure nothing had crawled in during the night. Those things were lethal, they'd been told, or at least excruciatingly painful and often resulted in amputation.

Lovely how many people had always failed to do those checks.

He had never been particularly afraid of the damn things - they were annoying as fuck, but squished pretty well if you got the tails or fangs out of the way first - but even he was a little perturbed by the sight of one bigger than a feral cat. If the ones the size of his fist were lethal, then this thing probably had poison that could kill him in seconds.

Or maybe kill Greed in seconds.

Even though they were now aware of its presence, they were making no effort to run away? Too concerned with their own fight, perhaps. The reasoning didn't matter -- all the scorpion cared about was that they were close now, and open to attack.

There wasn't much thought put into which one to go after, except that one was smaller than the other, which meant that its venom would be more potent if it struck. If it missed, then it would just go after the other.

Stinger standing high and poised to jolt forward as fast as a snake struck, the scorpion made a beeline for the smaller human.

Greed grit his teeth as Kimbley dodged, though as he turned around and saw that the bomber was off-balance and the scorpion was heading their way, he grinned instead.

"Think fast!" He smirked as he shoved the other's back towards the thing approaching them with his good hand. He wasn't going to waste any more time on this shit if he could ditch Kimbley with some monster, and if he didn't get to Roy soon, he and the others would probably rush off without him.

So, holding his shoulder tightly and dashing a wide perimeter around the scorpion and his new prey, he disappeared down the dark end of the hall.

Kimbley always thought fast, but he'd been expecting a fist headed for his face again, not a plam flat against the already agitated wounds on his chest.

With a snarl of irritation and pain (that stung), Kimbley pitched backwards, already off-balance because of his shift and the distraction of the damn scorpion. He hit the ground, rolled over onto his knees, and looked up just in time to see Greed darting away down into the darkening hallway and the scorpion getting closer, tail twitching in anticipation.

"And you called me a chickenshit?!" he yelled down the hall after Greed, eyes fixed on the mottled shell of the monster before him. This night was just getting better and better.

One was getting away, but the scorpion wasn't greedy. These humans were so loud-- the yelling made it hold back for a moment, but once he was sure that one of them was gone, he had the remaining one to focus on.

It had been the one it had been going off in the first place, so it didn't have to shift itself too much. Without much more hesitation, it scuttled forward, stinger poised threateningly in the air. In a few seconds' time, it would be close enough to swipe the stinger down and finally hurt something.

Fuck. Fuck. Kimbley braced himself against the floor, staring the monster down even as it crept closer. That tail was ready to strike, and if he didn't move fast - because these little fuckers moved really damn fast - it was going to hit him. And there was no goddamn way he was going to die now.

So, as the little bastard came within a few feet of striking distance, Kimbley lunged backwards. It was kind of awkward, being that he was on his hands and knees and all, but fucked if he was going to just stand up and try to get around it. It was fast, he was fast - now he just had to determine which one of them was faster.

Nightshift 27: M61 - M70 Hallway

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject