The man hefted the cinder block again, saw Mannequin approaching, and changed his mind. He dropped the block onto the head and then ran.
Yes, good. I like this guy, I don’t want him to die from having too much bravery and too few survival instincts.
Mannequin didn’t give chase to his attacker. Instead, he stooped down to pick up his head, then stood straight. I stopped where I was.
With any luck, he’s got enough in there to at least give him a minor headache.
For long moments, Mannequin held the head at arm’s length. Then it fell to the ground.
“Ehh, screw it, I don’t need a head. Maybe this way I can at least join the Headless Hunt when I’m dead.”
Seconds stretched on as his arm flopped its way towards him. My spiders swarmed it, surrounding it in silk. Only the blade was really allowing it to move, now, the fingers struggling around the silk to move it into position for the next sudden thrust of the blade.
And it’s not like she can silk up the blade, either.
Mannequin turned his attention to his arm, and I set my swarm on it. A thousand threads of silk, each held by as many flying insects as I could grip it with, all carrying the arm aloft. I brought it up to the ceiling, and began fixing it in place, building a cocoon around it.
Hah, nice!
My enemy turned his attention to me, his shoulders facing me square-on. As he no longer had a head, I found his body language doubly hard to read. Had I irritated him, doing that?
Probably.
He stepped forward, as if to lunge, and the silk that wreathed him hampered his full range of movement. His leg didn’t move as far as he intended, and his missing arm displaced his sense of balance. He collapsed.
I think Taylor’s won this. Now it’s just a matter of how much Mannequin can take before he officially gives up.
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