Okay, and now he had to dodge falling pieces of building, too. Just how sharp were those blades? They appeared to be moving with a hell of a lot of force, and all of it out of control, making it hard to predict where they'd go next in order to dodge them. Perhaps he should have paid more heed to Knives's warning, but he clearly needed help, even if Tim was woefully underprepared to offer it.

His efforts at dodging the blades and falling chunks of concrete were almost balletic in their grace, sidesteps and twirls and acrobatic flips that would have made experienced Olympic athletes jealous, even with his injuries, and he almost made it to Knives's side unscathed.

Almost.

The closer he got, the harder it was to dodge, and it was almost inevitable that he got hit before he made it. Two blades managed to slice into him, one just opening up the side of his leg in long, bloody gash like a thin red crescent of fire that burned across the muscles and made him falter, allowing the second to slice deep into his shoulder, severing flesh and bone like it was butter. With a strangled noise, he fell to the ground and managed to roll away, out of the range of the blades and feeling grit and debris grating its way into his wounds, his blood leaking all over the ground in a fluid red smear.

"Damn it..." He realised the syringe of sedatives had broken, as useless as he was right now, just a pile of broken fragments and spilled liquid.