As the bandit presses all his weight on top of the knife, likely thinking this will be his only chance to finish off the ranger, Clark redirects the knife off to his left, into the ground while with his right hand, thrusting a chop into the bandit's throat. That movement was one of many that years of training had drilled into Clark. In many of his fights, the movements just happen. The bandit's hand instinctively tries to nurse his throat, while the opposite arm is fully extended in front of Clark who quickly collects it, then breaks it. The shock of pain causes him to lurch his head back and give out a cry, but before he can take another breath, a knife is at his throat and Clark is behind him. The man's cry withers to a sob, as he begins realizing the predicament he is in. The victory holds little satisfaction to Clark. He is all to aware of the greater danger at hand. After a quick look around the wooded landscape, Clark brings his attention back to the whimpering bandit.
"Where are the others?!" Clark growls, but the man only continues to whimper. "Are you listening?!" Clark presses the knife tighter to the man's throat, "Answer me!"
"I'm listening! I don't know what you want!" The bandit's voice is horse from the blow to the throat. "What do you want?!" He also seems earnestly confused by the inquiry of the others Clark had simply assumed must be near by. Bandits don't travel alone.
"The others! Where are they?!"
"I didn't see others. I only saw you when you attacked me."
"I meant your friends! You idiot!"
"Friends?" The man's voice is still panicky, but there is now tone of confusion as well.
He isn't even on the same page. So there must really not be others around if the bandit is assuming by others Clark meant others on Clark's side. Unfortunately there isn't any others on Clark's side. If there were, this mess could be resolved much quicker. Clark thinks about Lexi, who had a wicked sense for lies. He would have had no problem getting the truth from this worthless bandit. But Clark is alone. A sudden awareness that he and the bandit have been sitting too long hits him. Clark gets off his knees, hoists the bandit up by his hair, and surveys the quiet woods. Are they really alone? With the whimpering bandits hair still clenched in his fist, Clark slowly revolves in his spot, scanning the woods. A lonely echo resonates off of every tree and in every dark corner of the wood. It resonates in his mind for a moment as he thinks: Why, Clark, are you always alone?
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