The was a record, even for him. It usually took him at least half a month to work his way up to being knifed by someone. This time he managed it in about a week.
Will had no super human powers. Hell, most of the time Jack had always kept him behind the ERT teams in an effort to keep him from tripping over their feet. The one time he had managed to shoot someone, he'd been working a fever of over a hundred and five; in other words, blind shit house luck.
The motion registered with him but Will simply wasn't quick enough or in a good position to avoid the expert throw. Maybe if Bucky had been off his aim, there would have been a chance, but he'd simply left himself too vulnerable. The knife sliced expertly through his wrist, throwing him backwards as it drilled towards the brick (or was that wood) behind him.
Will tumbled back with the blow, aware of his arm getting pinned up and away from his body. He hung there for a moment, the pain radiating but not unmanageable, at least not to the extent of driving him towards trying to remove the blade. Instead laid back, one leg now folded awkwardly beneath him, the other sprawled out in front of him. ]
Right.
[ He said simply, looking back over his shoulder and reaching to pull his arm down, careful not to dislodge the knife. Getting his sprawled legs under him, he awkwardly worked to gain his feet. ]
I'm not going to be able to return this too you right at the moment, I'd rather not bleed out. But I'll slip it under the door to your room as soon as I get it removed.
[ The calm had leeched out of his voice, but it left behind no anger or judgement. Merely, exhaustion.
Feet under him, Will curled his knifed arm in towards his body to hide it from any passersby, and began to retreat down the alleyway. ]
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The was a record, even for him. It usually took him at least half a month to work his way up to being knifed by someone. This time he managed it in about a week.
Will had no super human powers. Hell, most of the time Jack had always kept him behind the ERT teams in an effort to keep him from tripping over their feet. The one time he had managed to shoot someone, he'd been working a fever of over a hundred and five; in other words, blind shit house luck.
The motion registered with him but Will simply wasn't quick enough or in a good position to avoid the expert throw. Maybe if Bucky had been off his aim, there would have been a chance, but he'd simply left himself too vulnerable. The knife sliced expertly through his wrist, throwing him backwards as it drilled towards the brick (or was that wood) behind him.
Will tumbled back with the blow, aware of his arm getting pinned up and away from his body. He hung there for a moment, the pain radiating but not unmanageable, at least not to the extent of driving him towards trying to remove the blade. Instead laid back, one leg now folded awkwardly beneath him, the other sprawled out in front of him. ]
Right.
[ He said simply, looking back over his shoulder and reaching to pull his arm down, careful not to dislodge the knife. Getting his sprawled legs under him, he awkwardly worked to gain his feet. ]
I'm not going to be able to return this too you right at the moment, I'd rather not bleed out. But I'll slip it under the door to your room as soon as I get it removed.
[ The calm had leeched out of his voice, but it left behind no anger or judgement. Merely, exhaustion.
Feet under him, Will curled his knifed arm in towards his body to hide it from any passersby, and began to retreat down the alleyway. ]