@zeon_liafador: "I know it has..." Sliding over on the bed, doing his best to hide any sign of pain as he gingerly moved his injured leg, he reached out and pulled the petite Zeon onto the bed beside him and wrapped his arms around her lovingly.
The_Assassin_'s forum posts
@zeon_liafador: "Z... Zeon?" Listening intently to her speak and he gingerly sat up on the bed, reaching over and cupping her chin with is hand, lifting her head so he could look into her beautiful brown eyes. Everything starting to make sense now that she'd explained it. "Don't apologize Zeon, it's not like I wasn't trying to do the same thing to you." Gently caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes off her.
@zeon_liafador: He wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been unconscious, but he did know two things; he was still alive, and he wasn't in that god forsaken alley anymore. He knew he wasn't in a hospital. The bed was too soft, and the smell was wrong. He could feel the bandages on his back and leg, and his clothes had been removed, leaving him unarmed. Was that other assassin still out there? That was the question... he opened his eyes and glanced around the room. No one was pointing a gun at him, so that was a plus. With a soft groan he mumbled. "Where am I...?"
@zeon_liafador: Distracted by the curse he was caught off guard by her surprising agility, especially after the hit she'd just taken. He managed to slide the arrow away the last second, but her foot just barely caught it, snapping the carbon fiber shaft and painfully shifting it in his already badly injured leg "B*tch..." He gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply, barely noticing the palm strike that connected with his forehead and sent him back into a stack of wooden crates. With his back against the crates he attempted to look up at the nimble assassin who'd attacked him as the hood from his jacket fell back from his face, only to lose consciousness before he could get a good look at her.
@zeon_liafador: The arrow flew straight and true, hitting right where he wanted it to. Or so he thought. Watching as the mysterious woman seemingly withdrew the arrow from her chest. It took him a second to realize that she was also wielding a bow. He arched a brow looking the woman over, sensing an air of familiarity about her... could it be? That was when he felt his own arrow slice into his calf...
"Motherfu..." He grunted, glancing down at his injured leg. Luckily the arrow had missed the artery. Quickly he turned his attention back to his attacker, before he could retrieve another arrow she practically right in front of him. Parrying her strike, he went low, pivoting on his uninjured leg and attempted a strike at her kidneys.
@zeon_liafador: The sound of sirens and the occasional secondary explosion filled the air, along with the constant pop of ammunition being ignited by the fires. The old stone building to his left helped muffle some of the noise as he calmly fled the scene, his honed senses on high alert moved down the fatal funnel between the two buildings, a quick glance towards a window confirmed his suspicions, he was being followed, by a woman, and something had just left her hand... Having only seen one of the blades, the quick pivot to his right up against the wall as his right hand reached up the back of his jacket to remove the bow he'd secreted there caused the second blade to miss him, but didn't stop the first one from skimming horizontally across his back, slicing it's way threw part of his clothing as well as the top layer of skin. Gritting his teeth he dropped low to the ground and readied an arrow, aiming directly for the heart of his pursuer, leading the broadhead arrow fly without a second thought.
@zeon_liafador The lone figure calmly strolled down the street, a hood pulled over his head to hide his distinctive medium length blonde hair as emergency vehicles rushed passed towards a burning warehouse several blocks away. The hit should have gone down with a lot less noise, but he hadn't planned on the dozen or so Russian mob types meeting with his target, a shady Czech arms dealer selling off Soviet era weaponry. Rather than risk any of the weapons getting sold off, or the target leaving before he got a clear shot, the Master Archer had decided to cut his loses and put an explosive arrow into a crate full of RPG-7s. "Not exactly my best work. But I'm getting paid and some village in Africa or the Balkans isn't getting machine gunned this week." Shrugging as he turned left into a cobblestone lined alleyway. He doubted he was being followed, but being cautious was never a bad idea.