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With a swift backward jerk Liam yanked the blade from the man's head and wiped the blood that had stuck to the steel on his shirt. His jaw and left ribs ached from the blows, but he was rather pleased with how the encounter went overall. If the young man was being honest with himself, he loved to fight more than he really should have. An animalistic urge came over him when he mentally prepared himself for a brawl, and it was a feeling that was hard to shake off. Regardless of the cheese-ball nature Liam seemed to have plastered all over him most of the time, he was most alive when he was in this brutal element. If it weren't for the need to get Ryan back out of her hiding place in the room, he could have stayed down here, bouncing on his heels and jabbing at the other man all night, toying with his weaknesses until he finally got bored and put him out of his misery. 'Like poor Mo, here.' He thought with a satisfied look down at the body at his feet. He gave the man at least a parting grace by putting the blade through his head; not allowing him to every get back up again.
When he looked up, he saw Reyna take care of the last of the man and couldn't help the twinge of regret that he couldn't do it himself. Not that he wanted to kill the man, that was actually far from what he wanted to do, he just really wanted to spar and these days dangerous strangers with weapons were the only fights to be had. While Reyna searched the pockets of the three fallen raiders, Liam could hear the distant rumblings of the two slowly rising back up. He wasted no time in stopping the rise; walking over to the closest one with a white knuckle grip on his weapon, he slammed the knife through the skull to the handle and ripped it back out again, repeating the action with the second. Again, he wiped the butterfly knife clean on the raider's shirt before pocketing it and moving on.
It felt like she had been in there for at least an hour. Sitting in the dark, as far back into the corner away from the closet door as she could possibly get, a pink backpack strapped closely to her back and a bigger, black one clutched tightly to her chest, sat Ryan with wide eyes and open ears. She did her best to listen to any form of noise that might prove to provide a negative outcome. For a long time she heard nothing and she remained sitting in the dark of the closest, an old dingy white robe dangling in her face that she dare not move. The anxiety gradually built in her chest until it was about to bubble over and she began to wonder if they were ever going to come back. When she finally did hear something, it was the sound of the door opening to her room, but not a forced entry. A burst of relief flooded the child and she emerged from her hiding place. The moment of relief was just that, a moment. Blood covered Liam's hands, Reyna was cleaning up his face and Mekai was turning a machete over in his hands like it was a new toy he had to figure out how to use. The black pack fell to the floor with a thud and she rush over to Liam.
"I'm alright," The adrenaline was finally beginning to settle down and his hands stopped shaking. The answer came to both of them in such a tone of certainty that Ryan was immediately convinced that whatever threat had been out there, wasn't there anymore. Liam pat the girl on the shoulder, "Just a bruised rib and a pretty sore jaw." He winked down at her and slumped down into the chair further. "Hell of a way to spend an afternoon, though." He ran his fingers though his hair, wincing at the stretching of muscles with the movement. The man may have had absolutely no trained skill in fighting, but he had obviously relied on brute strength all his life and it showed. It was going to be a week and a half easy before there would be no trace of the bruise at all, probably the same for his face. At the thought of the bruised jaw, he stood up and went to eh bathroom mirror. "Jesus Christ, the man had a damned bear paw for a hand." He leaned in close to the mirror and reached up to gently push on the already darkening blotch with his fingertips, wincing each time his fingers touch the spot. Next, he shifted to lift his shirt and examine the swelling around the lower section of his ribs. Ryan was at his side, her own fingers rising to touch the tender skin, but thought better of it and instead spread her hand over the black and purple bruise, hovering just a couple inches over the skin. She frowned at the size of it; her hand barely covered the surface area of it. His fingertips found the bruising and he gently shook his head, "Goddamned bear claws."
He lowered the shirt and together they walked out of the bathroom. "I do think that if we are going to being staying in this lovely establishment we should probably go lock the front doors. I highly doubt the three stooges out there bothered." He took the bottle of water Ryan handed him and took a small drink. "With how they handled themselves, I think we'd be lucky if they even closed the doors, let alone lock them."
When he looked up, he saw Reyna take care of the last of the man and couldn't help the twinge of regret that he couldn't do it himself. Not that he wanted to kill the man, that was actually far from what he wanted to do, he just really wanted to spar and these days dangerous strangers with weapons were the only fights to be had. While Reyna searched the pockets of the three fallen raiders, Liam could hear the distant rumblings of the two slowly rising back up. He wasted no time in stopping the rise; walking over to the closest one with a white knuckle grip on his weapon, he slammed the knife through the skull to the handle and ripped it back out again, repeating the action with the second. Again, he wiped the butterfly knife clean on the raider's shirt before pocketing it and moving on.
It felt like she had been in there for at least an hour. Sitting in the dark, as far back into the corner away from the closet door as she could possibly get, a pink backpack strapped closely to her back and a bigger, black one clutched tightly to her chest, sat Ryan with wide eyes and open ears. She did her best to listen to any form of noise that might prove to provide a negative outcome. For a long time she heard nothing and she remained sitting in the dark of the closest, an old dingy white robe dangling in her face that she dare not move. The anxiety gradually built in her chest until it was about to bubble over and she began to wonder if they were ever going to come back. When she finally did hear something, it was the sound of the door opening to her room, but not a forced entry. A burst of relief flooded the child and she emerged from her hiding place. The moment of relief was just that, a moment. Blood covered Liam's hands, Reyna was cleaning up his face and Mekai was turning a machete over in his hands like it was a new toy he had to figure out how to use. The black pack fell to the floor with a thud and she rush over to Liam.
"I'm alright," The adrenaline was finally beginning to settle down and his hands stopped shaking. The answer came to both of them in such a tone of certainty that Ryan was immediately convinced that whatever threat had been out there, wasn't there anymore. Liam pat the girl on the shoulder, "Just a bruised rib and a pretty sore jaw." He winked down at her and slumped down into the chair further. "Hell of a way to spend an afternoon, though." He ran his fingers though his hair, wincing at the stretching of muscles with the movement. The man may have had absolutely no trained skill in fighting, but he had obviously relied on brute strength all his life and it showed. It was going to be a week and a half easy before there would be no trace of the bruise at all, probably the same for his face. At the thought of the bruised jaw, he stood up and went to eh bathroom mirror. "Jesus Christ, the man had a damned bear paw for a hand." He leaned in close to the mirror and reached up to gently push on the already darkening blotch with his fingertips, wincing each time his fingers touch the spot. Next, he shifted to lift his shirt and examine the swelling around the lower section of his ribs. Ryan was at his side, her own fingers rising to touch the tender skin, but thought better of it and instead spread her hand over the black and purple bruise, hovering just a couple inches over the skin. She frowned at the size of it; her hand barely covered the surface area of it. His fingertips found the bruising and he gently shook his head, "Goddamned bear claws."
He lowered the shirt and together they walked out of the bathroom. "I do think that if we are going to being staying in this lovely establishment we should probably go lock the front doors. I highly doubt the three stooges out there bothered." He took the bottle of water Ryan handed him and took a small drink. "With how they handled themselves, I think we'd be lucky if they even closed the doors, let alone lock them."