If someone as novice as he was had the time to make a weapon that held together better than a few of his own knifes, then there was too much on his hands. During the time between one job from the next, all the assassin had to do was occupy his attention. Something to keep him distracted so he was not seeking out work on his own. As professional as he was with his occupation, restlessness came all too easily for him. It took everything he could to be the one elites sought after instead of approaching himself. Unfortunately, the lull between was near unbearable to some point.
“ DAMN IT -- ”
It had taken a few days to insert the knife with the spring in the sole of his shoe. An insert that had given him less than an inch more to his height. FINALLY it had come together and was holding steady, a tap to the release button at the back allowing the blade to slip out the front. It had taken one more day to insert a successful stopper so the blade did not release itself and shoot out. Now he merely needed to practice using such a weapon.
“ SONUVA -- ”
THIS was why rogues stuck to fighting with the knives in their hands. As flexible as he was and as high as he could get his leg, distance between connecting the top of his foot with the target and the knife slicing through was something he was having trouble judging. One more swing and he’d get it. So he tried -- and failed. Again.
It fell too short and he barely grazed the bag hanging in front of him. A disgruntled groan escaped, expletives pouring out under his breath as he took one of his knives from his belt. With a spin in the palm of his hand, he sunk the blade into the cloth of the bag himself. Patience was not one of his virtues.
{ &// ashelander }
