>>5492228No thoughts. Just movement. Nerve signals shock your body into motion, and you practically leap to the left to get out of the way. For a not-quite-athletic young man you'd say you did damn good. Well, if you had the presence of mind to patting yourself on the back right now. But that's not quite enough to get you off completely scot-free. You avoid the fate of being buried underneath that rotten, burnt pile of flesh, thank whatever the fuck is in charge of everything, but you do still come out a bit worse for wear.
As you fly through the air a sharp pain travels through your right shoulder, reason unknown, and then a duller one in your left as you crash into a nearby cabinet that stops your movement out of the way. You land in a bit of a heap, but not completely on the ground- you're on your knees at least. The thing is a bit worse off, sprawled on the ground a few feet away from you. In between the two of you lies your knife, the golf club you still have one firm hand on, and some blood.
You take a look at the knife left on the ground and the gold club still barely in your clutches.
>You pick up the knife.>You take up the golf club in both hands.>You take a moment to sheathe the knife and then take the golf club up in both hands.Rearming yourself dealt with, you force yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain in your body telling you to sit down and rest.
>The thing is still prone. It's open season. [Specify a region to attack]>It'll take a minute for it to get running. You should get going. [Specify your route of retreat- garage, front door, upstairs, etc.]>Write-in