Risky plays from all around today, but it seemed as if other options weren't available, unless Vicktaur started throwing his swords like an idiot. Thank god he was smarter than that, Landru doubted he would be able to get very far if all his time was spent laughing at his opponent. Still, a charge from a man of that side with two blades was never something you wanted to see coming, not by any stretch of the imagination. He certainly had speed on his side, that was for sure. The problem with the one handed blades was the power behind the blow, the accuracy, but since Landru didn't have a damn thing to block with it was basically a win-win for his opponent. Matching the on coming charge for a brief moment before tossing his jacket forward, the giant piece of clothing fanning out and blocking off the view of one another. Abusing the lack of visual contact, he leaped forward, a single leg straightened out trying to catch the boy in the center of his body, with the other leg remaining below to support him on the landing. There was a pretty darn high chance he was going to get cut up here, but it was something he would just have to risk. After all, you don't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, just like you don't kick a traitors shit in without getting a few cuts of your own. His ear was more than enough of an example of this.

He chased down Landru while still brandishing his weapons. No matter how fast he ran or how hard he pushed himself, Landru managed to say ahead of him. When it came down to speed Vicktur was outmatched and there was no denying it or getting around it. Landru had superior speed and strength, while the only thing Vicktur had over him was his ability to take a hit. Or atleast he belived so. Its not like his life amounted to a text based "game" where some nerd was controlling his every action. This nerd would have to be akin to some sort of god, and Vicktur wasnt sure if he believed in god. He knew that he lacked belief in the highly accepted judeo-chrisian incarnations of the concept. But that was mostly because the book was complete gobbledygook and its mindless dick riders were about as vapid. Not to mention the government pushed that shit to encourage docility, just like they put chemicals in the drinking water to do the same thing. He learned about tbe chemicals in the water from a nomadic Revolutionary friend of his. He rode around in a big ass self propelled carriage and had hella guns.

It was just as he had suspected, Landru was baiting him inti a trap! Goddamn son of a geriatric protestant whore. Landru tossed his big ass fancy coat at Vicktur to try and blind him. While it worked it would also blind Landru. Vicktur took this chance to dodge roll to the side and slash at Landru from his flank. Hopefully things would happen so quickly that he couldnt respond while in mid-kick. He slashed one direction with the sword in his mouth, and the opposite with the one in his hand. The blade in his mouth was naturally level close to his torso while the other his legs.

He kicked at nothing, the loss of something to hit causing him to stumble forward slightly, as if landing from a bad fall. It was then that he felt the sharp line dance across his side, like a race track of electricity running over him. Jolts of intense pain fired through him, racing at impossible speeds to tell his brain exactly just how fucked he was in this situation. He didn't have times to check his wounds manually, but he could take a pretty dam good guess. A laceration across his left leg, going horizontally across his calf muscle, thankfully not cutting his tendon, instead leaving him with heavy blood loss, his life force spurting through his pants, staining them and the ground around him. Another cut to the side of his abdominal muscles, a lot less severe probably as a result of him using his fucking teeth for it, only an inch deep at the worst. Still, it stung like a fucking bitch, the kind of pain that would keep you up all night. The problem with having a sword in your mouth and one in your hands was pretty simple, your maneuverability went to complete shit. It's damn hard to dodge something when there's a metal blade getting caught on things in your mouth. His kicking foot came down hard, twisting and carrying the momentum with him he aimed to deliver a punch straight to the kids face, just above his mouth. This was the best damn chance was going to get and he wasn't about to waste it just because he was cut up. Off balance from the opposing cutting direction and just after recovering from a roll, his opponents maneuverability options were pretty shot but on the same foot so were Landru's if he didn't end this very soon he wouldn't be able to continue fighting.

He felt his blades cutting through tender flesh Gotcha!. From the resistance he could tell the blade in his hand cut deeper than the one in his mouth. No surprise there, he wasnt exactly well versed in the art of Santoryu; fighting with three blades one of which you carried and struck with between your teeth. He had simply seen a man utilize the style once while fending off his comrades. It was a bit of a pain to use a style he watched a Marine kill one of his shipmates with, but it had atleast been minorly effective against this Marine. The thought of a Marine getting wasted by a style picked up from a Marine was pretty humorous. And Vicktur would laugh if not for having a sword in his mouth as well as being in the heat of battle with Landru. The more he fought the Giant the more he came to, somewhat, respect him. He once had a sparring partner who told him that men understood one another the most by clashing swords or exchanging blows. It was oy now that Vicktur truly understood the meaning of those words. He was young, brash, and had a bit too much hate inside him. Maybe all those talks with Yomi about letting go had some truth to them?

While he had managed to injure his opponent, Landru was pumped full of adrenaline and the will to break Vicktur in two. He withstood the cuts and quickly countered with an attempt to knock Vicktur's teeth down his throat. The boy couldnt afford to let his teeth go to waste. If Marine health insurance was poor than Revolutionary health insurance was complete and total shit. No way in hell he'd get them fixed. However, he couldnt avoid the hit like he did last time. He knew he had to suck it up and take it like a man. So instead of letting Landru force him to buy a pair of dentures, he'd let him intensify his headache. By simply shifting his head he met Landru's fist with his forehead. Stars danced around his eyes as the pain rocked every fiber of his being. What was once a headache had become a splitting migraine. He dug his feet into the ground to avoid being thrown backwards, using the blade in his hand as well. Stabbing it into the earth to anchor him in place. It took only a second for him to regain his bearings. Vicktur bit down on the hilt of his sword like a soldier biting on a belt while getting a limb amputated. Landru's fist caused a giant welt to puff up on his head, beating like a heart pumping blood. Or atleast it definitely felt that way. Not oy that but he had also split the skin and caused profuse bleeding. Blood spilled down his forhead and over his eyelids, partially blinding him. Boy was he in a pickle. If he couldnt win he would have to run. He felt like a goddamn pussy for admitting it but it was true. Living to fight another day was more important.

A direct hit, or at least as close enough to one as he could possibly hope for. Already the kids head was swelling up like a fucking balloon, something that generally signified that the fight was over. Shaking out his pain filled hand, the Marine couldn't help but bounce on the spot, the excess adrenaline forcing him to keep moving. Looking down at the kid, the feeling of admiration stayed true inside of him, a fire burning away and consuming all else, even his precious logic. Physically, he was a total wreck, bleeding down the side of his body, soaking into his pants, leaving a trail behind him. His right side torso was drenched also, blood still coming out steadily from his mangled ear showing no sign of stopping any time soon. The sorrow that was seen in his eyes when he ordered his friend to accompany him was even more intense now, like a burning flame in his eyes. Previously he would have gotten a few months at the most, now? Thirty to forty years at the least, most likely death. Could he really bring himself to send the man who had effectively brought his life back, rekindling his dream, his passion, could he send that man to death? "Vicktaur, I sure you can feel it, but I can see it. That's a bad wound on your head, if you don't get medical attention soon you'll be in a lot of trouble. You don't want to let your brain go to waste, that's all you have." He paused, blowing on his knuckles once more, the skin bloodied from the impact, his own skin splitting. "Do you admit defeat? If you try and run they'll certainly capture you. It's not a course of action I would recommend." He could see the wheels turning in the boys head, feeling out where he would go. It was either a plan of a direct attack or running for safety, both of which would just lead to his death.

Damn it! he could hardly think straight with this debilitating migraine. It felt like his head was being shredded by shards of glass. Goddamn it! Goddamn it all anger, sorrow, and bitter resentment was all he could feel at the moment. For himself for being too weak, for Landru for getting him in this mess, for the Government and its allies, and for his dead family just because fuck them. He fell on one knee as he clutched at his head, using every ounce of his willpower not to cry. He had been defeated and now was the moment of his reckoning. He thought back to Hure and regretted that he'd never get to see her again. And to Yomi who often warned him about his reckless and suicidal journey against the powers that be. Boy would she be happy to know that she was right. Probably not happy to hear about his death, but atleast happy to know that she wasnt wrong. Fuck this rock and everyone on it not he was on his hands and knees trying not to lose consciousness as Landru began to gloat. He said something about the wound on his head and about not letting his brain go to waste, as it was the only thing of worth he possessed. Vicktur couldnt help but laugh at the comment You're...still...just a shitty cat he said as he calmed down from his tired laughing.

He gritted his teeth at the thought, but in the end Landru was right. He couldnt get away in this condition. He grabbed his blades and returned them to their sheathes. Standing up, he tried his hardest to look Landru in the eyes with the blood streaming down his head I yield... the words dropped from his mouth in a strained manner, as if he had to force them out Do your worst.

A car crash of emotions and thoughts, conflicting ideals and promises. Could you put the value of another mans life over your dream? If you did, could you truly say you believed in your dream, in your own ambition? A man without ambition is nothing, a flat zero, but a man with no honor was that even worse? The silence hung between them like a wet cloth, covering any and all action, a suppressant on anything else but thought. A Marine called his name, breaking what had built up slicing through the mood like a hot knife through butter. "He got away!" He shouted over his shoulder, already regretting what he was doing. "He went north, through the barricade. I want everything you've got on his ass, you hear me?" He turned, blocking off the crouching boy from view of anyone who might try and steal a glimpse. "I'm wounded and so is a civilian, I'm gonna take the two of us to the infirmary. Don't come back until you find him, understand?" Confirmation was shouted back to Landru, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps away from them, funneling through the gate into the richer district. Slowly stepping towards his jacket, he stooped low to pick it up, the action causing a stream of blood to squirt from his side, spreading over the grass like a signature. "I never want to see you in Logue again, you understand me?" He asked, turning back towards his once companion, tossing the jacket towards him and grasping him around the arm, pulling him to his feet with no intention of letting go any time soon.

Vicktur wasnt quite sure what was happening right now. Another Marine made their presence known, to which Vicktur instinctively reached for his blades to deal with. Despite him telling Landru to finish it the Giant didnt seem to want to do that. He remained infront of Vicktur to stop the other Marine from seeing him. He then fabricated a story about Vicktur having escape north past the barricade. Landru told his subordinate to head that way with all the men he could manage to scrounge up. And that he didnt want to see his face until they had found Vicktur and brought him before him, or so he imagined. His head hurt like a motherfucker and this made it hurt even more. What the fuck was this guy doing? Vicktur truly was completely awe-struck by what was happening right now. He wanted to shout bullshit and try to cut Landru's head off right here and now. But he knew damn well that he couldnt accomplish that in this state. And even if he could he wasnt 100% sure that he'd really truly want to. Landru helped him get tohis feet but didnt let go of his arm. He wanted to hear Vicktur say it; that he'd never see him in Loguetown again.

Vicktur chuckled, amused once again I've been trying to get out of this fucking place since I first met you, remember? You can guarantee youll never see me here again. Once I see a few people i'll be damn sure to split town though he said "see a few people" he meant once ge joined up with his crew. He had spent the last dew weeks draining his pockets at bars to find the group. And now it was time to go.

He stared into the boys eyes with a fiery intensity that would rival that of Moses laying down the ten commandments. His grip around the boys arm tightened, squeezing him as if to show just how serious the situation they were in was. "I don't think you understood me correctly." He replied slowly, wondering how he should phrase it. It was a complicated issue, one bound by honor and friendship, an admiration for your enemy, the kind of thing that would be frowned upon by anyone who hadn't experienced what they had shared. Caring for the one you were supposed to kill. The idea was foolish to the Marines, foolish to just about anyone really, but for Landru it was different. He considering fighting to be the most pure expression of self one could muster, no bullshit, just doing whatever you had to. "The next time I see you, I won't give you an easy out. We're even after this, understand? I don't owe you anymore and you don't owe me, don't forget that. From here on out we're enemies, same as we should be." His eyes were wide, scanning over the area before sinking into Vicktaur's gaze, a rapid movement that made him look as paranoid as he felt. "You're a good kid, it's a shame what happened between us. You would have made a good Marine." He let the words linger before pushing him away in the opposite direction of the search party. "You have twenty-four hours, that's all I can give you."

It seemed like the roles had reversed on Vicktur. Last time he and Landru met the Revolutionary jad told the Giant the exact same thing; next time they met he would put an end to him. Not only did he end up sufferung defeat at the hands of the very same person, but his words were now being used against him. He was feeling very bitter at the moment, he couldnt deny. Up to this point he had chosen his opponents wisely. For the most part he won out in the end against most of the Marines he had crossed blades with. But this time he managed to lose by the skin of his teeth. He matched Landru's intensity as he stared unwavering back at the Giant. I'm not sure what the hell you owe me for, but its not im my nature to look a gift horse in the mouth. maybe it was the ethanol bath? Or maybe it was because he fed a starving man who had practically given up on life. Either way, Vicktur never expected for it to come back around in his favor. For someone who wasnt keen on charity he lucked out by giving it.

Of course at the time he didnt see it as such. As far as he was concerned he was feeding the man who would navigate him to the New World. And while it pissed him off when Landru refused after all their negotiations it also opened the door for him to learn the skill for himself. Now he needed no one to help his crew navigate to their destination. Thank You... the words were suprisingly easy to say, given that his enemy was the one he said them to. He left Landru in that place and headed towards Yomi. He really needed a doctor right about now.

[Left]

He left quickly, pulling the choice away from him, putting what was once in the future into the past. It was an etch into his history that he could never change, it was who he was now, a portion of his person, a segment down in his history. From now on out he was Landru, the one who let the kind go instead of Landru with the perfect record. Did he do the right thing? He didn't know, it could be, there was no real way for him to be sure. Who knows, it wasn't for him to linger on, he had things to do, a life to live, focusing in the past wasn't going to do anything to help that. Looking for his shirt around him for his shirt, he was reminded by the shred of cloth, showing him what was left of his precious garment. "Fucking kid, god damn it." His hands moved down to his side, pushing down on the wound at the side of his belly. A spray of bubbled blood fired out, staining his hand with a trickle of scarlet. He would need to find a medic, someone to tend to his wounds. It would have to be the official Marine camp, that way when they asked back about it he would have the records to match up with what it was that he had told the Marine from prior, thus keeping his story together as one collected unit of the English language.

[left]