<i>Out. </i>Chrys needed out. There was only so much time he had before Niegel would stir and become coherent. When the man rose, he would be livid beyond words. Niegel was a malicious man, and malicious men were not known for mercy. If he was found, there was no guessing what could happen to him. Niegel's unhinged words hung in his mind, his declarations of vengeance for wrongdoings and the bitterness behind every mention of his father. All of that would be placed behind the effort of searching for Chrys, so that the soldier could exact all of that pain onto him.<br/><br/>Now was the time for him to escape from the trailer, and run to safety. Chrys pushed Niegel into a sitting position, so that his head no longer lolled against the side of the tub. A cut had been opened up on the man's forehead, and rivulets of blood gave the hot water a pinkish tint. He wasn't about to remain and patch up his hunter, but it only seemed proper to at least make sure he wouldn't die from the ordeal. The last thing on his mind was killing another person, even if it was in self defense.<br/><br/>His pants and boxers were swept from the damp floor, as well as Niegel's shirt; Chrys' own shirt had long been reduced to tatters, when he had first tried to escape. Closing the bathroom door behind him he frantically pulled the clothes on, wanting to linger no more in nudity. On his body, Niegel's shirt was loose but was too short by two inches; the man was shorter, but more hefty. Chrys spotted his shoes, which had been removed before he had woken up. In a few seconds he had his shoes and socks on, laced tightly.<br/><br/>He made to the door, and he tugged the door handle. The innocuous resistance of the locked door greeted him, and his blood ran cold.<i>No, </i>Chrys thought.<i>No. Nononoonononononono this isn't happening. </i>It was locked, and there was no time to find a key. Panicking, he rammed into the door - the door was a solid wall, and it stood against the force of his body. Then he remembered; there were windows.<br/><br/>Hastily he approached one of the windows, pressing his hand against it. There was nothing in the RV that could shatter the window, nothing with enough weight behind in to even crack it. Nothing short of slamming his entire body would break the glass, and doing that would leave him a broken, blood mess embedded in a pile of shards. Swiveling his head back and forth violently, he searched for something. Then he looked at the light fixture right above him, a pointed dome. An idea came to him.<br/><br/>Chrys unscrewed the dome, placing it on the RV's table. The lights were off, and hidden by the dome were two lightbulbs. Unscrewing one of the lightbulbs, he smashed the bulb end against the table, until all that was left was the lightbulb's spark plug. Without the light part, it was known as a ninja rock; made with aluminum oxide ceramic, it was exceptionally hard. Backing a feet away from the table, he hurled it at the window. The window shattered into dozens of pieces, with a deafening crack.<br/><br/>Though the area was littered with sharp shards, he was willing to take the risk of being cut than the threat of an angry Niegel. To his best he swept away the stray shards over the table, though there was still some minuscule shards that remained where the window had been. With a reluctance to his actions he climbed onto the table, crawling on his stomach through the window. As a forethought he held the second lightbulb in his hand, in case he would need it.<br/><br/>"A-Ah..." Chrys winced loudly. A sharp pain greeted him as he got to the lower half of his body, and with a surge of strength he powered through the window, tumbling to the ground. For a few moments he sat there, recovering. A burning pain emanated from his torso. He had been cut when he was crawling through. Raising the shirt up, Chrys assessed the damage. It looked like he had been clawed by cats, six shallow cuts stretching three or five inches over his stomach. Covering himself up, he pressed his free hand against his gut.<i>Fuck... I'm bleeding. I'll have to deal with that. But before that... I have to get out of here. Put some distance between me and him.</i><br/><br/>Without any other thought he jumped to his feet. He took a moment to observe where he was. He was beside Niegel's RV, and the RV was attached to Niegel's truck. Wherever they were, it was far from society. As far as the eye could see there was dense wood, old trees that towered over him ominously yet protectively. The skies were darkening — both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he would be harder to find, but it also meant that it would be harder for him to see soon, and that it would soon grow cold. He was bleeding and dressed lightly, and the cold would indiscriminately hurt his escape efforts. It would drain him of energy quicker.<br/><br/>There was little time for him to contemplate, however. He couldn't risk searching the truck for anything useful. He needed to get away from Niegel, find somewhere where he could stop and recover, tend to his open wound. It was a dangerous gambit, but he decided to go further into the woods. Moving as fast as he could without further aggravating his wounds, he melted into the forest, hoping that the man wouldn't wake soon.