[ he almost can't believe he got the man off his feet, but david doesn't waste time on that thought. he scrambles, recognising the opportunity for the rarity it is, to crawl up and straddle trapper's chest. he'd love to be able pin his arms with his knees, and that punch is a prime example why, it staggers him a moment but he refuses to give this up. ]
[ david leans forward, plants one hand down on trapper's throat and the other he uses to try and push his mask off and toss it aside so he can punch this guy in the face. again and again, alternating hands, the idea of course being to just beat this man until either he's a bloody mess or something stops him. ]
[ despite his efforts, david gets the mask off. evan glowers at him for a half second before the punches start to rain down.
it's exactly what he would do in this situation. when the other guy's down, don't give him any time to recover. just make sure he doesn't have time to focus. can't get back up. but david didn't have the chance to pin down his hands, and even with his focus being shattered with every hit, there's enough violent instinct in him to know how to react without his brain really getting involved.
without being able to see, his hands come up. one to deliver a punch to david's gut, the other to snatch at his throat and try to choke him out. his fingers scrabble at whatever he can reach, trying to find the neck without knowing exactly where it is. ]
[ so singularly focused on raining down those hits on trapper's face, david really doesn't expect the hit to the gut. it makes him double over, both from the surprise and the pain, leaves him totally unprepared for the follow-up hand looking for his neck. panic blooming when he feels fingers at his face because that is, in many ways, a hell of a lot worse. ]
[ he lets go of trapper's throat to grab his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, hoping he can push it down enough to pin like he should've in the fucking first place. now it's a nightmare, no idea how he's gonna get both of those hands down, even as he reaches blindly for the one that punched him. with a normal person it'd be easy — grab both wrists and push them down so he can put his knees on them, but with this asshole, david's not so certain. ]
[ nothing ventured though, he plants his knees in the dirt either side of trapper so he's at least a bit more stable in the moment. ]
[ thought is mostly gone at this point, other than wanting david dead. there's blood in his eyes, making it hard to see, so his hand never quite finds david's throat. he can feel his jaw, his mouth, then the softer spot under the chin, and then there's a hand at his wrist, dragging back, dragging down.
hands at both wrists, actually. evan can tell david's trying to get him pinned, on some instinctual level. can feel him getting more stable. more anchored. it's unacceptable. he's not going to be beaten into a pulp by anyone, except -
he bucks hard, trying to throw david off-balance, trying to throw him off completely, hurling his fists at david's face and ribs as best he can with the hands trying to stop him. anything to stop him getting him really pinned. anything to get him off. ]
[ yeah, he's not strong enough to pin both of trapper's hands, not like this. david's stuck in that awkward place, knowing he can't overpower trapper, but if he lets go then that gives him every opportunity to really get david. ]
[ especially when trapper bucks, when his fists come swinging. it throws david's balance and he rears back, holding as tight as he can to the other man's wrists, pushing back against him but really doing much else. ]
[ but david refuses to relent. fuck that and fuck him. puts all his weight into it as he leans forward, against those swinging arms, using everything he's got to try and get them pinned down. he'll figure out what comes next, how to keep him there if he can just get that advantage solidly under him first. ]
[ he should be stronger than david. a lot stronger. and he is, he knows, but there's two things in the way here: he's never at his best after a trial, and david's got extra strength thanks to the rage powering him right now.
so does evan, to be fair. but in the time he's been in the fog, he's learned that cornering a rat too often eventually makes it turn and fight, and when it's got nothing left to lose it gets a freedom even he'll never understand. in this case, david has literally nothing else to cost him here except his life, and there's not much evan can do to him that hasn't already been done a hundred times over.
slowly, despite everything, david gets his arms pinned against the dirt. that doesn't mean evan's totally down, and even the slightest change in pressure means he's going to be up and swinging again immediately. but in that moment, everything goes still - not stopped, just tense, rigid, ready to explode. and evan glares up at him, blood on his face, teeth grit, waiting to strike. ]
[ it feels like holding down the pin of a grenade. ]
[ like this, little more space between them than enough for their breath to mingle, just enough david can clearly see the tension and anger on evan's face and it comes with a deep and uncomfortable awareness of just how fucking volatile this situation is. he can't hold trapper down forever, and the moment that he loses even a little of that pressure is going to be explosive. ]
[ he's not afraid to die, especially not to a man whose rage tends to override any capacity for real cruelty, but losing like this would be crushing. getting this close to a win that actually feels like one and then having it ripped away because he didn't pin the bastard's hands? that shouldn't be all it takes to undo him. it shouldn't be so fucking easy to beat him, not for anyone. ]
[ his grip tightens around evan's wrists, a snarl rumbling in his throat as he stares back, but david doesn't move. truthfully he doesn't really know what to do here except gather himself, to choose to let go so it's not a surprise when trapper's up again, when things turn against him. ]
[ even through the rage, david's expression doesn't do a great job concealing the way all this goes through his head. the way he ends up with "what now?" as the only thing he can think when he looks at the man below him. ]
reasonably he understands why: david has to let go to hit him, and as soon as he lets go evan's going to do everything in his power to crush his skull. it leaves them both stuck, wanting to kill with no way to do so. even a headbutt isn't going to get them far, because one or the other will be stunned and leave the other with an opening, if it doesn't stun them both.
but it doesn't improve matters at all, and the rage keeps roaring, burning through him, making his fingers curl into fists as he strains against david's grip. he can see the uncertainty flicker across david's face. the fact that even he's realized they're at a stalemate. evan wants to snarl something at him, piss him off again, make him lift a hand in rage to give him a chance to fight back. ]
What's your next move, maggot?
[ it's a growl, barely human. the part of him that still thinks is preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of this before david has no other choice than to let him up. ]
[ if he times it right, maybe. doesn't give in to the blood rushing in his ears, the way that anger and bloodlust is burning through him, maybe he can get away without being obliterated the instant he lets up. how the fuck he'd turn things back around after that is another question, but one thing at a time. this is already pushing the limits on how much he can really think right now. ]
[ the question doesn't help, because they both know he has no fucking clue what to do next. david's next move right now is 'keep stalling until he has an idea.' ]
Maybe I just wanted to hold you.
[ it lacks the usual sharp-edged playfulness david's comments usually have when he's trying to rile somebody up, an instant response more for the fact that silence in this moment feels like admitting weakness than anything else. ]
[ under other circumstances, that might be funny. as it is, evan's mouth twists in a snarl, bares his teeth, and he surges against the pressure holding him down. a threat. an attempt. it holds, but it can't forever. ]
Wrong move.
[ he's tense. ready to strike, roll, do anything. he almost wants david to attack first just so something happens. he's only a man for stillness when he's on the hunt; a fight should be constant movement, constant fire. not whatever the hell this is. ]
[ it's kind of a shame, under different circumstances that response would be deeply satisfying, even now there's a part of him that wants to laugh. trapper's inability to handle inertia is really becoming one of david's favourite buttons to hammer. ]
[ in the moment though, david's focus is on how to put enough distance between them in the seconds after he lets go. very careful about the way he shifts his weight where he's straddling trapper, rolling from his knees to his toes so he's ready to spring up, back. wherever. ]
[ what's frustrating is the safest direction is back toward the workshop, but he doesn't have time to try and think about where else to go. he rolls to the side and up onto his feet, bracing himself for the attack he knows is coming. ]
[ the instant the pressure lessens, evan's surging up, like every inch of him was electrified into action. like he's raising from the dead, furious and looking for revenge - and except for being dead, that's not too far off from right.
he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
[ that's about what he expected to happen, and yet, somehow it's also worse at the same time. david was banking on being more agile than trapper, but suddenly he's not sure that matters so much. ]
[ sure as fuck doesn't wanna get grabbed though, so he has to try. does his best to time it right to duck out of the way and slip around trapper at the last moment, hoping his momentum will make it too difficult to adjust. ]
[ new plan: jump up on trapper's back if he gets the chance, but david expects even if he manages to get behind him right now, getting up on him is going to be one hell of a task. ]
[ david's dodge gets him, because evan was expecting him to take the brunt of the blow like he usually does. and his momentum is too strong to stop and turn, although he does swing out an arm to try and grab him to drag him at least a little ways further.
but rather than running, david tries to get on his back as soon as he's behind him. he can feel the attempt, the hands grabbing at his waders, his shoulders, the hooks and shrapnel, and he tries to snatch at him, to stop him from getting up there. if he can't - and it's difficult to reach behind him far enough for that - he takes the next best path, which is to wait until david's got a firm enough grip and then back up hard and fast into the wall to crush him between the mine and evan himself.
it won't be hard enough to break anything, but it should wind him, or at least get him to let go. if it doesn't, he'll try it again, still trying to grab at anything close enough to his shoulders to get hold of. ]
[ well okay, he kind of thought he'd get more of a chance to do some damage up here. foolish, really. hubris gets the best of everyone. ]
[ his grip slacks the first time his back hits the wall, winds him enough that one of the legs he was trying to hook around trapper for stability falls uselessly, but david is always one to make a situation as painful as possible for everyone involved. if he's going to hurt, he's sure as fuck going to make sure trapper does too. ]
[ he grabs on to one of those pieces of shrapnel sticking out of evan's shoulder, grip tight enough that when he backs up into that wall again and david falters, all his weight is, for a moment, hanging off that hunk of metal. less a threat and more a promise, because david reckons he's got maybe one more hit in him before it's too difficult to stay up here, but he's planning to take this with him when he falls. ]
[ it's like trying to hold down a wild bull, or some people have said over the years. even when he was less of a literal monster nobody could manage to keep him still. and they tried. they tried a lot.
he can feel david starting to slip off, but as always, he doesn't expect the grab to the shrapnel. he really doesn't expect david to hang his whole body weight off it. the agony as it starts to rip through him, tearing skin and muscle alike as it comes loose too slowly to deal with, gets a noise out of him that's both the closest and further from human he's ever sounded in a fight.
it stops evan in his tracks, that's for sure. he scrabbles frantically over his shoulder to grab david and wrench him up, get the leverage loose before the metal snaps and leaves him a bleeding, nearly-crippled wreck. whether he can manage it or not, though, is up in the air. david's losing his grip on evan's back, but not on the metal, and that makes him even harder to find. ]
[ there's a question he's going to have to ask himself later, because the noise that trapper makes rings with such deep satisfaction it almost makes him sick, and later, when he remembers it, he probably won't be able to say if that's something that's always been there or if that's what the fog's done to him. ]
[ not right now though. right now all david knows is he needs this man hurt and bleeding. it's single-minded, the way he hangs his weight off that piece of metal, bends his legs like he's doing fucking pull-ups just to make extra sure he doesn't hit the ground before that fucking thing either breaks or tears loose. david's not picky. ]
[ it's like being gutted by the entity. almost. almost like it. close enough that he can barely see as david drags harder and harder, letting gravity do the work instead of actually fighting, and evan can't get hold of him.
the metal snaps, but deep in the muscle, and tears its way free. as david drops, so does evan, onto his hands and knees as the pain ricochets through him and stuns him for longer than he can afford to be stunned. the shoulder the metal was embedded in feels numb at the same time as it pulses with red-hot agony.
almost as bad.
he knows david's suddenly got an upper hand, but he can't do anything about it. evan tries to recover, but it's so hard to try and push himself up, even on his good arm. ]
[ the metal snaps, tears free of trapper's body, and david stumbles when his feet hit the ground. narrowly avoids stepping in a trap as he rights himself — pure luck, david forgot they were even there. ]
[ what's more important right now is the jagged piece of metal in his hand. not as good as the one he'd last ripped out of trapper, but it's a weapon. close enough to one, at least, for when david descends on trapper, halfway fucking feral, to stab him in the neck with it. once, twice, whatever. as many fucking times as it takes. ]
[ evan gets hold of himself just in time for david to descend. the metal jabs into his neck, and it's only because of the state of his skin that that first stab isn't a killing blow.
but it does draw blood, and it hurts like hell, and evan brings up a hand to try and stop him even as his whole body rebels against the idea of anything other than trying to recover. david lands another hit, and another. hard and strong enough to split the skin and dig into his neck, avoiding immediate death only by sheer luck. only the one arm is willing to respond right now, so he does the only thing he can and tries to tackle david.
there's not much force behind it. he's barely up off the ground. but he puts as much weight as he can into it, trying to get his good hand around david's, trying to wrench it and get him to hurt enough to drop the shrapnel even as it buries itself further into his throat. another few blows and he's going to be on his way out - unacceptable - but he doesn't die fast, or easy, and never has. ]
[ david practically howls when evan grabs his hand, somewhere between pain at the strength of his grip and fury at the way the shrapnel slips from his hand. even as he's tackled, david's a real fucking live wire about it. kicking, swinging his other fist for trapper's neck, his shoulder. ]
[ there isn't really any thought in his head except the haze of bloodlust, anger at being so close to taking this bastard out and having that taken away (what feels like) so fucking easily. david feels like he's losing his fucking mind, how many times is he going to come close to beating trapper only to have it ripped out of his grasp. how many times is he gonna have his hands soaked in this guy's blood and be the one who dies anyway? ]
[ equal parts exhausted and enraged, it's pretty standard for david at this point. but like evan he doesn't intend to go down fast or easy, not if he can help it. ]
[ david's relentless, and this time it's making evan's life an actual hell. the constant attempts to make the neck wounds worse are succeeding; there's blood, too much blood, and it's getting everywhere. it's even sapping the rage as the loss sets in, making his already pain-addled brain even less focused.
but the instinct to win is as strong for him as it is for david - more they have in common that neither one probably wants to acknowledge. he makes an effort to hurl his entire body weight on david, crush him down and choke him out with an arm across the throat while he tries and fails to stem the blood from his neck. no chance of doing it with the agonizing tear in his shoulder, which isn't helping.
his other arm almost has feeling back, but it still won't obey him well enough. too sluggish. too much pain when he moves the shoulder at all. so he just lets that one go for now and tries to bear the brunt of all of david's attacks as he tries with everything he has to crush david's throat, which probably isn't going to be as successful as he'd like. ]
[ evan is a heavy guy, it means that once he's bearing down on him, david has no hope of throwing him off. at least not without changing his focus from trying to kill this fucking man, which isn't likely to happen. at the very least he needs evan to pass out to have a hope of leaving here alive. to say nothing of the need to win this that feels like fire in his veins, blood roaring in his ears that sounds like the cheers and yells of a drunken crowd or an angry wind whipping down an alley. ]
[ david wheezes under the weight of the arm across his neck, tries to get one of his hands under it to push back, take at least a little of the pressure off. he coughs, eyes blurred and watery, sputtering out a laboured curse between gritted teeth. ]
[ he reaches out with his other hand, grabs at trapper's throat. at first like he plans to simply try and choke him in return, but he quickly changes tack to try for something more effective, dragging his fingers over blood-slick skin to find those stab wounds and, well. jam his fingers into them. ]
[ one of the things evan's always been good at is not showing when he's losing. it's won him a lot of fights in his life. if he just keeps throwing himself at the problem, keeps swinging, keeps killing, nobody will suspect how close he is to having no choice but to give up.
but david's good at that, too, or so he's found. and so he has no idea if he's a dead man here, or if david is.
he bears down on david only for david's fingers to find the bloody wounds at his throat and digging in and wrenching and the noise he makes isn't angry because it isn't human. or maybe it's exclusively human - the sound of pain in a throat that's being mutilated by force. his other arm still isn't working right, so he can't stop him, can't yank him away.
his only other option is to push away, freeing david but also freeing himself. he hits the far wall and sits against it, grabbing at his bleeding throat, breathing in an unhealthy bubbling way. and watching david with a look somewhere between sheer murderous rage and seriously pissed-off disbelief. ]
[ david might not be bleeding nearly as much, but he's taken a hell of a beating. when evan pushes off him, he just lays there for a minute without any imminent threat to spur him on, sucking in heaving breaths. something in his chest rattles and david winces, grosns as he resists the urge to just curl in on himself and pass out. ]
[ he staggers to his feet, fighting posture but it's sluggish, hunched in that way that suggests there's some real damage hiding under the surface. ]
[ and then his eyes find evan sitting against the wall and something in him kind of - deflates. without the immediacy of the fight, he's suddenly aware of just how badly he wanted to kill him in the moment. of blood all over him that isn't his and david doesn't know how to process that. not that he ever thought he was a good man, but at least he never-- ]
C'mon-- You're not dyin' are you?
[ kind of a dick thing to say if not for the edge of disbelief in his tone. part of him honestly wants trapper to just get up like this is just some temporary problem and that's. weird. it's weird. ]
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[ david leans forward, plants one hand down on trapper's throat and the other he uses to try and push his mask off and toss it aside so he can punch this guy in the face. again and again, alternating hands, the idea of course being to just beat this man until either he's a bloody mess or something stops him. ]
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it's exactly what he would do in this situation. when the other guy's down, don't give him any time to recover. just make sure he doesn't have time to focus. can't get back up. but david didn't have the chance to pin down his hands, and even with his focus being shattered with every hit, there's enough violent instinct in him to know how to react without his brain really getting involved.
without being able to see, his hands come up. one to deliver a punch to david's gut, the other to snatch at his throat and try to choke him out. his fingers scrabble at whatever he can reach, trying to find the neck without knowing exactly where it is. ]
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[ he lets go of trapper's throat to grab his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, hoping he can push it down enough to pin like he should've in the fucking first place. now it's a nightmare, no idea how he's gonna get both of those hands down, even as he reaches blindly for the one that punched him. with a normal person it'd be easy — grab both wrists and push them down so he can put his knees on them, but with this asshole, david's not so certain. ]
[ nothing ventured though, he plants his knees in the dirt either side of trapper so he's at least a bit more stable in the moment. ]
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hands at both wrists, actually. evan can tell david's trying to get him pinned, on some instinctual level. can feel him getting more stable. more anchored. it's unacceptable. he's not going to be beaten into a pulp by anyone, except -
he bucks hard, trying to throw david off-balance, trying to throw him off completely, hurling his fists at david's face and ribs as best he can with the hands trying to stop him. anything to stop him getting him really pinned. anything to get him off. ]
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[ especially when trapper bucks, when his fists come swinging. it throws david's balance and he rears back, holding as tight as he can to the other man's wrists, pushing back against him but really doing much else. ]
[ but david refuses to relent. fuck that and fuck him. puts all his weight into it as he leans forward, against those swinging arms, using everything he's got to try and get them pinned down. he'll figure out what comes next, how to keep him there if he can just get that advantage solidly under him first. ]
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so does evan, to be fair. but in the time he's been in the fog, he's learned that cornering a rat too often eventually makes it turn and fight, and when it's got nothing left to lose it gets a freedom even he'll never understand. in this case, david has literally nothing else to cost him here except his life, and there's not much evan can do to him that hasn't already been done a hundred times over.
slowly, despite everything, david gets his arms pinned against the dirt. that doesn't mean evan's totally down, and even the slightest change in pressure means he's going to be up and swinging again immediately. but in that moment, everything goes still - not stopped, just tense, rigid, ready to explode. and evan glares up at him, blood on his face, teeth grit, waiting to strike. ]
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[ like this, little more space between them than enough for their breath to mingle, just enough david can clearly see the tension and anger on evan's face and it comes with a deep and uncomfortable awareness of just how fucking volatile this situation is. he can't hold trapper down forever, and the moment that he loses even a little of that pressure is going to be explosive. ]
[ he's not afraid to die, especially not to a man whose rage tends to override any capacity for real cruelty, but losing like this would be crushing. getting this close to a win that actually feels like one and then having it ripped away because he didn't pin the bastard's hands? that shouldn't be all it takes to undo him. it shouldn't be so fucking easy to beat him, not for anyone. ]
[ his grip tightens around evan's wrists, a snarl rumbling in his throat as he stares back, but david doesn't move. truthfully he doesn't really know what to do here except gather himself, to choose to let go so it's not a surprise when trapper's up again, when things turn against him. ]
[ even through the rage, david's expression doesn't do a great job concealing the way all this goes through his head. the way he ends up with "what now?" as the only thing he can think when he looks at the man below him. ]
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reasonably he understands why: david has to let go to hit him, and as soon as he lets go evan's going to do everything in his power to crush his skull. it leaves them both stuck, wanting to kill with no way to do so. even a headbutt isn't going to get them far, because one or the other will be stunned and leave the other with an opening, if it doesn't stun them both.
but it doesn't improve matters at all, and the rage keeps roaring, burning through him, making his fingers curl into fists as he strains against david's grip. he can see the uncertainty flicker across david's face. the fact that even he's realized they're at a stalemate. evan wants to snarl something at him, piss him off again, make him lift a hand in rage to give him a chance to fight back. ]
What's your next move, maggot?
[ it's a growl, barely human. the part of him that still thinks is preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of this before david has no other choice than to let him up. ]
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[ the question doesn't help, because they both know he has no fucking clue what to do next. david's next move right now is 'keep stalling until he has an idea.' ]
Maybe I just wanted to hold you.
[ it lacks the usual sharp-edged playfulness david's comments usually have when he's trying to rile somebody up, an instant response more for the fact that silence in this moment feels like admitting weakness than anything else. ]
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Wrong move.
[ he's tense. ready to strike, roll, do anything. he almost wants david to attack first just so something happens. he's only a man for stillness when he's on the hunt; a fight should be constant movement, constant fire. not whatever the hell this is. ]
Let go now, and I'll make it quick.
[ but it won't be painless, he doesn't add. ]
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[ in the moment though, david's focus is on how to put enough distance between them in the seconds after he lets go. very careful about the way he shifts his weight where he's straddling trapper, rolling from his knees to his toes so he's ready to spring up, back. wherever. ]
[ what's frustrating is the safest direction is back toward the workshop, but he doesn't have time to try and think about where else to go. he rolls to the side and up onto his feet, bracing himself for the attack he knows is coming. ]
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he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
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[ sure as fuck doesn't wanna get grabbed though, so he has to try. does his best to time it right to duck out of the way and slip around trapper at the last moment, hoping his momentum will make it too difficult to adjust. ]
[ new plan: jump up on trapper's back if he gets the chance, but david expects even if he manages to get behind him right now, getting up on him is going to be one hell of a task. ]
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but rather than running, david tries to get on his back as soon as he's behind him. he can feel the attempt, the hands grabbing at his waders, his shoulders, the hooks and shrapnel, and he tries to snatch at him, to stop him from getting up there. if he can't - and it's difficult to reach behind him far enough for that - he takes the next best path, which is to wait until david's got a firm enough grip and then back up hard and fast into the wall to crush him between the mine and evan himself.
it won't be hard enough to break anything, but it should wind him, or at least get him to let go. if it doesn't, he'll try it again, still trying to grab at anything close enough to his shoulders to get hold of. ]
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[ his grip slacks the first time his back hits the wall, winds him enough that one of the legs he was trying to hook around trapper for stability falls uselessly, but david is always one to make a situation as painful as possible for everyone involved. if he's going to hurt, he's sure as fuck going to make sure trapper does too. ]
[ he grabs on to one of those pieces of shrapnel sticking out of evan's shoulder, grip tight enough that when he backs up into that wall again and david falters, all his weight is, for a moment, hanging off that hunk of metal. less a threat and more a promise, because david reckons he's got maybe one more hit in him before it's too difficult to stay up here, but he's planning to take this with him when he falls. ]
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he can feel david starting to slip off, but as always, he doesn't expect the grab to the shrapnel. he really doesn't expect david to hang his whole body weight off it. the agony as it starts to rip through him, tearing skin and muscle alike as it comes loose too slowly to deal with, gets a noise out of him that's both the closest and further from human he's ever sounded in a fight.
it stops evan in his tracks, that's for sure. he scrabbles frantically over his shoulder to grab david and wrench him up, get the leverage loose before the metal snaps and leaves him a bleeding, nearly-crippled wreck. whether he can manage it or not, though, is up in the air. david's losing his grip on evan's back, but not on the metal, and that makes him even harder to find. ]
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[ not right now though. right now all david knows is he needs this man hurt and bleeding. it's single-minded, the way he hangs his weight off that piece of metal, bends his legs like he's doing fucking pull-ups just to make extra sure he doesn't hit the ground before that fucking thing either breaks or tears loose. david's not picky. ]
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the metal snaps, but deep in the muscle, and tears its way free. as david drops, so does evan, onto his hands and knees as the pain ricochets through him and stuns him for longer than he can afford to be stunned. the shoulder the metal was embedded in feels numb at the same time as it pulses with red-hot agony.
almost as bad.
he knows david's suddenly got an upper hand, but he can't do anything about it. evan tries to recover, but it's so hard to try and push himself up, even on his good arm. ]
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[ what's more important right now is the jagged piece of metal in his hand. not as good as the one he'd last ripped out of trapper, but it's a weapon. close enough to one, at least, for when david descends on trapper, halfway fucking feral, to stab him in the neck with it. once, twice, whatever. as many fucking times as it takes. ]
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but it does draw blood, and it hurts like hell, and evan brings up a hand to try and stop him even as his whole body rebels against the idea of anything other than trying to recover. david lands another hit, and another. hard and strong enough to split the skin and dig into his neck, avoiding immediate death only by sheer luck. only the one arm is willing to respond right now, so he does the only thing he can and tries to tackle david.
there's not much force behind it. he's barely up off the ground. but he puts as much weight as he can into it, trying to get his good hand around david's, trying to wrench it and get him to hurt enough to drop the shrapnel even as it buries itself further into his throat. another few blows and he's going to be on his way out - unacceptable - but he doesn't die fast, or easy, and never has. ]
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[ there isn't really any thought in his head except the haze of bloodlust, anger at being so close to taking this bastard out and having that taken away (what feels like) so fucking easily. david feels like he's losing his fucking mind, how many times is he going to come close to beating trapper only to have it ripped out of his grasp. how many times is he gonna have his hands soaked in this guy's blood and be the one who dies anyway? ]
[ equal parts exhausted and enraged, it's pretty standard for david at this point. but like evan he doesn't intend to go down fast or easy, not if he can help it. ]
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but the instinct to win is as strong for him as it is for david - more they have in common that neither one probably wants to acknowledge. he makes an effort to hurl his entire body weight on david, crush him down and choke him out with an arm across the throat while he tries and fails to stem the blood from his neck. no chance of doing it with the agonizing tear in his shoulder, which isn't helping.
his other arm almost has feeling back, but it still won't obey him well enough. too sluggish. too much pain when he moves the shoulder at all. so he just lets that one go for now and tries to bear the brunt of all of david's attacks as he tries with everything he has to crush david's throat, which probably isn't going to be as successful as he'd like. ]
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[ david wheezes under the weight of the arm across his neck, tries to get one of his hands under it to push back, take at least a little of the pressure off. he coughs, eyes blurred and watery, sputtering out a laboured curse between gritted teeth. ]
[ he reaches out with his other hand, grabs at trapper's throat. at first like he plans to simply try and choke him in return, but he quickly changes tack to try for something more effective, dragging his fingers over blood-slick skin to find those stab wounds and, well. jam his fingers into them. ]
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but david's good at that, too, or so he's found. and so he has no idea if he's a dead man here, or if david is.
he bears down on david only for david's fingers to find the bloody wounds at his throat and digging in and wrenching and the noise he makes isn't angry because it isn't human. or maybe it's exclusively human - the sound of pain in a throat that's being mutilated by force. his other arm still isn't working right, so he can't stop him, can't yank him away.
his only other option is to push away, freeing david but also freeing himself. he hits the far wall and sits against it, grabbing at his bleeding throat, breathing in an unhealthy bubbling way. and watching david with a look somewhere between sheer murderous rage and seriously pissed-off disbelief. ]
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[ he staggers to his feet, fighting posture but it's sluggish, hunched in that way that suggests there's some real damage hiding under the surface. ]
[ and then his eyes find evan sitting against the wall and something in him kind of - deflates. without the immediacy of the fight, he's suddenly aware of just how badly he wanted to kill him in the moment. of blood all over him that isn't his and david doesn't know how to process that. not that he ever thought he was a good man, but at least he never-- ]
C'mon-- You're not dyin' are you?
[ kind of a dick thing to say if not for the edge of disbelief in his tone. part of him honestly wants trapper to just get up like this is just some temporary problem and that's. weird. it's weird. ]
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