[He stares at the creature — hears Tony distantly, in that way where things feel under water. The hand with the gauntlet on it twitches, like some stuck mechanism, a cog that needs greasing. The hand twitches, and that's it, an aborted motion before it ever truly began.]
I can't... I... I'm going to die.
[He swallows hard. The rabbit effects — the rabbit effects are making him frozen. He doesn't have time to explain. Panic seizes his throat, and he breathes in short bursts, fast and harsh and full of anxiety. You're going to be ripped apart, a little voice says. You're going to die again. But like the other side of a coin, there's Tony's little voice, ringing: Aim for the face.
He rips his hand upward, and it takes everything to just force himself to move.
But then he's firing once from the gauntlet, and it hurts, jarring his shoulders back. But the blast does connect; it clips the creature's front leg, and it thrashes angrily in pain for a moment as it stumbles; it's still moving toward Diarmuid, more desperate to kill him now that he's posed a threat —
Closer and closer, it's getting closer —
It's nearly upon Diarmuid, and then the boy fires again. Point blank.
The creature is sent flying, and Diarmuid ends up on his butt... slowly sitting up to stare in the direction the beast flew. It's not moving. It's not breathing, either, and he stares partly in awe and partly in horror at the damage done.]
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I can't... I... I'm going to die.
[He swallows hard. The rabbit effects — the rabbit effects are making him frozen. He doesn't have time to explain. Panic seizes his throat, and he breathes in short bursts, fast and harsh and full of anxiety. You're going to be ripped apart, a little voice says. You're going to die again. But like the other side of a coin, there's Tony's little voice, ringing: Aim for the face.
He rips his hand upward, and it takes everything to just force himself to move.
But then he's firing once from the gauntlet, and it hurts, jarring his shoulders back. But the blast does connect; it clips the creature's front leg, and it thrashes angrily in pain for a moment as it stumbles; it's still moving toward Diarmuid, more desperate to kill him now that he's posed a threat —
Closer and closer, it's getting closer —
It's nearly upon Diarmuid, and then the boy fires again. Point blank.
The creature is sent flying, and Diarmuid ends up on his butt... slowly sitting up to stare in the direction the beast flew. It's not moving. It's not breathing, either, and he stares partly in awe and partly in horror at the damage done.]