<strong>Alias: </strong>Creeping Shadow<br/><strong>Your Team:</strong>Team F<br/><strong>Interacting with:</strong>Kid King<br/>Still dizzied and with his ears splitting and ringing, practically throbbing from the pain, he notices the bolas coming towards him.  To some extent, physics works in his favor; throwing bolas downwards or upwards is more difficult than throwing it straight forward. It was a genuine limitation of the weapon.<br/><br/>Still, the weapon manages tow rap itself around his left arm; his arm is pulled backwards with the weight and momentum of the interconnected weights, but as one of those said weights comes flying towards his head, he's able to bring his still-free arm up and block it.<br/><br/>The end result is that rather than getting his head bashed in, and possibly suffering a concussion,  his wrist feels like it might be broken; he doesn't have the sort of super-toughness that can protect his bones from extreme force.  At least it was his off hand.<br/><br/>As the Kid comes charging at him, he would just let it happen. Let him get on top of him, and provide a barrier between CS and the power-robbing sun. The others might see the flying spectre disappear, as the owner of that shadows starts to turn considerably darker of skin. His clothing seems to fall away, as he melts into liquid shadows.<br/><br/>A single tendril of the darkness would lash outwards, and along the Kid's forehead. If he manages to hit, he'd channel his corrosive ability, and leave behind a significant acid burn; one that actually forms the word 'Asshole'. A nice little scar, in payment for using a god damned military or police grade weapon in this fight.<br/><br/>Of course, if this had been anything but training, the Kid's fate would have been far, far worse...