✄ your muse injures my muse (( D= ))
The poison dart struck home, embedding itself in the Operative's neck. Marqos stood up straight, breath ragged from the grueling and extended fight, his smile cruel.
"If you cannot beat them, fight dirty," he said with an arrogant air of accomplishment. The silver haired terror dropped to his knees, going a bit green around the gills.
Marqos looked away for only a second to inspect the arm injury that made his claws feel twice their weight and something struck his midsection like a sharp bite, small and precise. He looked down at the throwing knife protruding from his gut, eyes going wide with wonder. It turned out that a second was more than sufficient for revenge. He exhaled a puff of a surprised laugh.
"Well... what else can I say? Bravo."