[ That hurts, like his brain's collided with the back of his skull, and continues to hurt as he retaliates, more from reflex than ability to think clearly. Probably a concussion, but Vasiliy doesn't worry about it any more than that detached concept as he brings his knee and then his foot between the two of them to strike at the bastard's crotch a second time, without the aid of a jackboot's steel toes or sharp, unyielding leather heel, but with the benefit of repetition.
He's not truly out of breath yet, but he's breathing more rapidly with the exertion. It's vaguely apparent when he answers. ] Don't care! I'll kill you, son of a bitch! I'll kill you! Last chance!
same cws as above & for rest of thread unless otherwise noted
He's not truly out of breath yet, but he's breathing more rapidly with the exertion. It's vaguely apparent when he answers. ] Don't care! I'll kill you, son of a bitch! I'll kill you! Last chance!