"I've seen your memories, Connor." Posturing? No. The disgust behind these words is entirely real. "I know exactly what you are."
The odds of escape hover close to single digits. The probability of his own victory are lower. But—that can't matter. Connor can't lose, not here, not like this. There has to be a way.
(He can't fail his mission.)
His own preconstructions flit past in rapid succession, dozens of potential outcomes meeting equally poor ends. He's still calculating when the other unit lunges. Connor's eyes snap toward the blade—and he steps into its attack, arm snapping up in a grab for its weapon wrist. If he can just take back the knife...
Difficult, when his arm spasms at its strike. Proximity dulls the impact of the kick to a degree, but Connor still staggers, falling forward—and dragging at whatever hold he can maintain to take his target to the ground with him. He lashes out with a knee, scrabbles for a disarming grip. The motions are furious and rapid, leaving no time for calculation.
no subject
The odds of escape hover close to single digits. The probability of his own victory are lower. But—that can't matter. Connor can't lose, not here, not like this. There has to be a way.
(He can't fail his mission.)
His own preconstructions flit past in rapid succession, dozens of potential outcomes meeting equally poor ends. He's still calculating when the other unit lunges. Connor's eyes snap toward the blade—and he steps into its attack, arm snapping up in a grab for its weapon wrist. If he can just take back the knife...
Difficult, when his arm spasms at its strike. Proximity dulls the impact of the kick to a degree, but Connor still staggers, falling forward—and dragging at whatever hold he can maintain to take his target to the ground with him. He lashes out with a knee, scrabbles for a disarming grip. The motions are furious and rapid, leaving no time for calculation.