Zoro Roronoa is a retired black-ops agent suffering from PTSD; after moving to a small town and getting married in hopes of leaving that life behind him, a chance meeting with a smarmy, blond paramedic changes all of that. Thus ensues a summer of te...
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Panting echoed out though the cool night air, each breath coming in a heavy wheeze as a stumbling set of footsteps came to a halt. Knees buckling inward as Zoro used the last of his remaining energy to keep himself upright, right arm cradling a particularly bad injury on his left as he stared down his assailant. One eye completely swollen shut from the brutal fight that had just taken place.
The rocking of the waves on the small marina vessel had Zoro's already unsteady body swaying dangerously while watching the other man near him. Gun sheathed and blade drawn as he really was just having fun with Zoro at this point, the whole evening having been just one large game.
"I'm surprised you're still standing." The operative noted with a lazy drawl, flipping the blade around in his grip to take a more natural hold as he continued stalking nearer, "What's your name?"
"Roronoa." Zoro gritted proudly, tasting copper on his tongue faintly as a rather nasty stab wound from their struggle below deck was beginning to get the better of him. Fighting back the faintness twinging his vision as he pushed himself a little more upright to face the other man.
"You're just a kid..." He noted with almost an air of surprise, sounding a little saddened by the notion as he continued, "Still very new to this, aren't you?"
Zoro didn't say anything.
Continuing to cradle his injured body as he glared down the other man confidently, carefully watching for any movement if the man intended to strike again. Much older eyes watched for a lot longer than Zoro would have thought, before he seemed to decide on something. Hand and blade lowering as he murmured, "I'll let you live."
"No thanks." Zoro grunted cheekily, lifting his jaw stubbornly as he finally released his injured arm to right himself properly. There was no way he would ever turn his back on somebody that could change their mind and so easily kill him; let alone make him look like a coward for running away. Chest jutting out as he managed, "Scars on the back are shameful."
Eyes widening in surprise, the other man seemed completely caught off guard by Zoro's reaction before a wide grin split his face as he jeered happily, "Well said."
And without a second more of hesitation the man was darting forward and bringing his blade down in a swift arch, the steel ripping through his chest in one clean motion. Pain not initially felt as the sharp metal sliced through his skin mercilessly, divided his muscles apart, and even struck bone. Blood immediately gushing from the wound that ran the length of his torso as the blow had him stumbling backwards against the low railing of the boat.
Zoro felt himself falling backwards towards the frothing water below, only the moment his back made contact it was replaced by the stiffness of a mattress. Eyes snapping open as his hands came up to grasp his shirt in large clumps and a tortured gasp was ripped from his throat in a raw, painful scream. Body spasming as he curled in on himself as the memory of the laceration lashed across his mind and body like a hot whip, each flash causing a seizure of pain to lance through him.
