Nolan Peyton
With a pure annoyance Nolan gave a glance to his right,
“Go further into town, and round up any you find.”
You aren’t coming with me, that’s for sure.
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Sometime after watching the other depart/stay in place/not follow him, Nolan moved closer, and closer, to the sobbing sounds. The little runt had not even bothered to make a break for it. The gifted boy was maybe mid to late teens, at most… not that that really mattered- he could feel pain all the same.
His radio was shut off. For him, what else was happening didn’t concern him. Only the grip on the knife in his hand was on his conscious mind as he remained still for a time… and spotted something that pleased him greatly.
Welcome, my dear.
Ah, but he shouldn’t waste his time with this whelp. By the time he would finish with him, she would be long gone. No, that would not suffice. Scraping his free hand along the ground he found a decent sized pebble, and threw it rather abruptly to his right, against the wall of an abandoned shell of a business. The sound reverberated enough to get mister sobbing brat’s attention.
Hopefully you too…
Nolan was already moving swiftly, quietly, and succeeded in finding a place to observe that which he had sought after. In reality, there was some disappointment to be had- he had found her all too quickly. Now he had to concentrate. The sapping of another would most certainly alert them; it would leave a feeling of emptiness and no doubt a sudden fear. He sprung it upon her and in the same instant, darted from his position and slammed into her, knife jamming deep into a leg as one hand gripped hers; another holding a firm grasp over her mouth. No one need hear her screams.
“Good evening miss Nine Nine Five One. There’s no point in screaming or resisting, no, that will only further anger me,” Nolan’s eyes appraised his prey approvingly, his satisfaction great.
“You and I are going to take a little trip, yes, away from here. I know not enough about you, a person of such fascination. I intend to learn much and more about you. Come, let us remove ourselves of this place.”
The quiet, antisocial Corporal slipped a hand into a pouch, producing a syringe filled with a colorless liquid. Jabbing the syringe into her throat, he took his time pumping the liquid, slowly, watching her reactions through her eyes.
Yes, those desperate, pleading eyes, always revealing so much about what’s really inside.