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Viewing Single Post From: Burn On
MurderWeasel
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That boy needs therapy!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Kimberly's fist never connected. Instead, a knee caught her in the gut, just to the side of the Molotov stuffed into her hand warmer. It knocked the wind out of her, killing her momentum entirely.

Better.

Then the fist to the face. It sent her staggering away, her vision blurring for half a second. Her legs weren't cooperating yet. She stumbled around Kris, finally collapsing on the ground a few yards behind her.

Better.

It hurt. She hurt. This was serious. Kimberly hadn't been on the receiving end of anything of this sort since Aislyn, and even that had been less extreme. She struggled to breath, to speak, but her chest hurt and her face hurt and nothing was working quite right. She raised her hand to her face, wiped it. It came away with some red specks. Mouth or nose? Hard to say. Hard to care. Nothing felt broken, but, then again, aside from a generalized pain, nothing really felt at all. She couldn't see well. The world was a blur.

Her glasses were gone.

Better still.

This was more like it. This was what she'd wanted. This was Kris Hartmann, mass murderer, worthy adversary, personal nemesis.

Kris wasn't really staying standing that well, though. Dammit. All this, and she still couldn't fucking stand on her own two feet?

And who the hell was asking her to identify herself? Whoever it was, they were mighty interested in Kris, and didn't give a fuck about Kimberly—at least, that seemed to be the case from what she could discern of the blurs. Kimberly absolutely hated being ignored. That was good. She could pin that on Kris, too. Kris was stealing her show. Kris was to blame.

She couldn't quite believe it. It made her sick. Maybe it made her cry a bit, or maybe that was the pain and trauma near her eyes. She couldn't even be mad about that. She was just confused, her head spinning, her face and stomach aching, her breath now coming in gasps and sighs.

She just hoped Erik would keep his head down. He seemed to be. She couldn't see him. Didn't know what he was doing. Making his way around to her, maybe, or getting an angle on the other guy. Maybe looking for a way to get the drop on Kris. She didn't even know if he was armed. Some fucking partner she was being. She tried to give a little thumbs up with her good hand, in case he was watching. She couldn't quite tell if it worked.

Stay back, all of you. Just stay away. I can do this. I can.

I can still make her pay.
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Burn On · The Mountain