A crumbling building is sure to get his attention, but only so long as he can watch it fall and see someone disappear in its smoke. Some might call it carelessness, but it would most certainly be more so just to leave this Peacekeeper alive and writhing. So he tends to it. And the next one. He keeps going and he can forget a building fell just a moment ago, he can forget about potential threats, because he doesn't care.
He doesn't care. When the arrow whistles through the air and sinks into his back, it only gives him pause. He reaches up with bloody claws to touch at the window, pulling back to view the new color added to the canvas. Indigo. A successful shot. He reaches again for the air, curling his fingers around the end. He tears it free.
The arrow still in hand, he turns to face his new enemy. There's no recognition on his end, none whatsoever. The arrow is snapped betwixt his fingers, clear so his shooter can see.
The Initiate runs. Clint ain't the only acrobat up in this bitch and the Initiate takes no strides to hide it as he move through the battlefield, over obstacles and under them, Club ready to swing at any straggling foes who are then dragged back and ripped into the air screaming.
He slips in under a bit of the crumbled building, disappearing from sight, but for only a moment. That great block of cement shifts and is hauled up, lifted into the air with two hands. The initiate braces for spring and throws it at Clint. Immediately, he scoops up his club and rushes in after, ready to take advantage of the distraction or potential injury it may cause.
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He doesn't care. When the arrow whistles through the air and sinks into his back, it only gives him pause. He reaches up with bloody claws to touch at the window, pulling back to view the new color added to the canvas. Indigo. A successful shot. He reaches again for the air, curling his fingers around the end. He tears it free.
The arrow still in hand, he turns to face his new enemy. There's no recognition on his end, none whatsoever. The arrow is snapped betwixt his fingers, clear so his shooter can see.
The Initiate runs. Clint ain't the only acrobat up in this bitch and the Initiate takes no strides to hide it as he move through the battlefield, over obstacles and under them, Club ready to swing at any straggling foes who are then dragged back and ripped into the air screaming.
He slips in under a bit of the crumbled building, disappearing from sight, but for only a moment. That great block of cement shifts and is hauled up, lifted into the air with two hands. The initiate braces for spring and throws it at Clint. Immediately, he scoops up his club and rushes in after, ready to take advantage of the distraction or potential injury it may cause.
He goes in swinging.