#[THUNDERDOME PT 3: I ran out of titles]

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

[ stab ]   your muse stabbing my muse anywhere / or specify. (From Leon)

The sensation is sharp and sudden. A blink and he might of never even noticed it happened at all. At least the feeling of anger that crackled between him and this one was deserved. Though he isn't even slightly remorseful for that.

With the chaos of other feet scrambling away in terror and a generator off in the distant with angry protest and whoever's clumsy fingers were fighting to repair it, he wasn't interested in focusing on every little discomfort.

It is not until the former STARS has vaulted himself over a nearby window frame that he starts to feel something stuck. Something that sends a long trickling path of blood down his knee and into his boot.

One hand caresses the handle embedded in his side. Feeling its solid texture against his gloves as he starts to pull it out.

"Ohhh, you little shit." With a slick coating of his own blood now decorating the blade, he turns it over and stuffs it neatly into the concealed sheath in his jacket. It barely fits, but he'll be damned if he leaves it and allows the chance for Leon to come retrieve it.