Moon-Moon and Snek-man [open]

"If I can waste his time, then that's good enough for me! No one ever said I was a soldier."

Yaksha was still steadily bashing the man's hand against the ground, his arm and tail alike both bubbling up and gently roiling; the flesh was working steadily at rebuilding, but even when Yaksha chose to detach the limbs over simply losing them, it was no easy process to regrow limbs. Flesh and muscle and bone took time to work out, and he often had trouble remembering just how many bones were in the standard arm at any given time.

Finally, finally, the man released the blasted baton. Yaksha could handle a lot, but that thing had quite clearly been too much of an issue for him. He released the limb, his claw simply sliding across the armor now, fingers flattening out and probing over the surface slowly, carefully. He growled and spat down at the pinned human, voice smug.

"Is your suit airtight? I hope so, because I'll-"

A deafening crack, and then Yaksha was on the ground, curled into a ball. The soldier had lifted his head and smashed it into Yaksha's chin, clipping him hard enough that he had bit off his own tongue. The world swarm, his eyes watered, and he knew in a helpless manner that if he couldn't act soon, he'd be dead. He had come here without much of a plan, and now he was suffering for it, quite clearly; there was just no way he'd be able to react in time. That baton would come down, and then Yaksha would be pounded to mush.

The soldier, strangely enough, was slow to rise, looking almost groggy. It seemed he'd rapped his own head not insignificantly from hitting the ground, and he had to take a few moments opening and closing his hand, as if testing to see how intensive the damage was. Yaksha's tail still wrapped tightly around his other hand, trying desperately to squeeze the life out of it, but a dismissive flick sent it flying off to the side, where it splattered against the ground.

The soldier leaned over, picking up the baton, and glancing at it. He looked almost like he was trying to determine whether he should bother using it on this weakling, or just go right ahead and burn the rest of its volts on the real target. Finally after a few moments, he settled for landing a savage kick against Yaksha's back, leading him to let out a strangled, pained moan.

The man circled around, staring dispassionately at Yaksha; it was hard to make out any fine details, but he could see quite clearly that the hollow's mask was being cradled by his remaining hand. He reared back his foot, scoffing slightly.

"You never should've interfered."

As he reared back, prepared to punt Yaksha's head clear across the room, Yaksha's eyes opened wide, glinting with that same smug triumph. His hand lashed out just as the man went for his kick, the fingers splintering and disappearing into paste immediately...but sending the kick soaring just up over his head. Yaksha's mouth opened wide, revealing row upon row of lacerating, meat-shearing teeth. He reared upwards, clamping down on the back of the man's heel, worrying away at it. His legs swept around in a clumsy, rapid arc, scissoring against the remaining leg.

Unfortunately for Yaksha, lightning reflexes could deal with nearly any form of deception; the enemy simply leapt up into the air, landing on one of the feet, smashing it into the ground as well. Yaksha let out another strangled hiss, his jaw loosening...but he clamped on for dear life, confident this was the last chance he had at survival. All he had to do was wait for his teeth to do their work, and hope that the woman could get over here quickly enough.