While the big guy had surprising speed, Val was always one step ahead of him, taking steps back and bending at the right moment. However, the stab got him. Just the tip, but it hurt like a bitch and cut his costume and it made him bleed. Valentine gasped and clasped the small triangle of impaled skin, staring at the big stupid mercenary. What the crap? He hissed at the wound and kept a hand over it, the white costume slowly turning pink as the blood dripped down his chest.
This was bullshit!
Val's eyes fell to the discarded sword and he moved his hand from his wound. It wasn't too deep, and it looked worse than it was, mostly because it had instantly stained the thin white fabric around his wound. Ignoring the weird woman who had been pointing but could speak, he grabbed the sword and, giving the owner of it a quick glance, bent back and used all of his upper body strength to hurl the thing past Victor, impaling it a good foot into the ground diagonally so it stuck out of the earth..
It would be stupid if the guy thought Victor was a push over. Sure they were acrobats, but they had more than that to do. Anything showy that normal people couldn't do, they generally did it, even along the lines of more deadly but rather beautiful looking moves from various martial arts. After he'd hucked the sword he gasped and pressed a hand to his chest again, it hadn't even gone in an inch. Right under his rib-cage, so it was a good thing he'd jumped back or he'd have been cleaved in two.
"Fuck that noi–" Valentine went quiet and stared at the ball of light. He'd missed her screaming or he would have made a less than lovely comment on it. The dagger that materialised in front of him had him tilt his head and stare. What the hell. The blade was red, the hilt had a red flower on it. "That's just mean. I don't even know how to use a damn knife." He grabbed it and looked at it to the mercenary.
Well, at least he could put it to use.
One hand to the wound on his chest, his hand now stained red and the white costume now a brighter pink, he leaned back his hand the threw the dagger, it was red, so it'd be easy to see. Catching on the right side would be difficult, there wasn't really any indication to which side was which. Suited Val fine. Meant the mercenary had to slice up his hand or catch the dagger in his thigh.
Glaring over at Victor, Valentine stumbled backwards and landed painfully on his bottom, wincing and moving both of his hands to the wound on his chest. It hurt, and it was still bleeding. Nothing lethal, which was good, but it still hurt like a bitch and looked as bad as one.