The fist in his gut drove the air from Damion, causing him to gasp for breath before coughing when he found it. Sweat slicked his dark hair, causing it to fall into his face, covering icy blue eyes. There were more than a few tears in the black t-shirt they'd left him, though his charcoal grey pants were in surprisingly good shape considering what'd he'd been going through the last few hours.
In spite of himself, he found himself smiling. He had them right where he wanted them.
How much longer are you going to let them beat on you, Damion? Random's voice in his head was tinged with amusement. He knew the plan, but Damion suspected he enjoyed watching him get beat up.
As long as it takes for you to finish infiltrating their system. The longer you take, the longer we have to let them do this, so feel free to finish up any time you…
Another blow, this time across his face, ended his train of thought. Sparing a glance for his abuser he turned his head to the side, spitting a bit of blood onto the floor.
Now, Random. Finish it now. His LMD didn't respond, but he could feel agreement. Damion looked back up at his abuser and offered a smile.
"What say we just let bygones be bygones? I'll go back the way I came and you can go back to kicking puppies, or whatever it is you do when you're not hitting guys like me." Damion knew he was pissing the guy off but didn't really care.
With a strangled yell the throwback to a previous stage in human evolution that had been pounding on him swung at him.
Damion threw himself backwards, the chair he'd spent the last hour tied to tipping backwards and falling over. It didn't provide the most padding as he crashed to the ground, but it still felt better than the punch from the cro-magnon would have.
A little help here? Damion knew Random was more than capable of multitasking. The new generation of LMDs, of which Random was one, had been clocked at handling more than three thousand simultaneous tasks without slowing down.
He could provide Damion with assistance while still attacking the system they'd been sent in to crack.
The small spiral shaped tattoo that encircled Damion's wrist shifted and flowed down into his hand, quickly forming into a small blade that he used to cut his bonds. Rolling backwards off the chair and to his feet, Damion gained a small measure of respect for his abuser.
He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and he'd clearly had some gene-work done, since nobody had that much muscle, not even with advanced cybernetics. The fact that Damion's jaw hadn't been torn off meant this guy was a professional.
Damion's smile grew at the stunned look on the Gene-Worked Thug. It lessened when he didn't turn and run.
He's clearly not afraid of you. Perhaps discretion would be the better move this time? Random rarely thought running from a fight was a good idea, which gave his suggestion more weight in Damion's mind.
The knife in his hand shifted, enveloping his hand in a swirl of silver and grey liquid metal. Damion poised himself on the balls of his feet, ready to move when the thug rushed him. He didn't have to wait very long.
With a snarl the huge thug rushed at him. Damion smoothly moved to the side, silvered hand shooting forward in a perfect body blow, the liquid metal hardening around his fist to give the blow weight and to protect his hand.
The thug doubled over, holding what were certainly bruised ribs, giving Damion an opening to escape. Half a dozen steps carried him to the door, the swirling silver on his hand shifting into a slender bar that he quickly jammed between the two sliding doors.
