Malcolm
Malcolm gritted his teeth, he was already falling out of the edge, and it seemed none of their shots did any good. With a flick of his wrist, the rope that was once broken extended again and wrapped around a pole. He couldn't quite see or feel where he was going, his senses and stimuli were already lagging behind due to the injury
But even so he could muster all his energy to move out of the way and reposition himself. The mana inside his body coursed even harder than before, barely healing his broken bones so they wouldn't break any further and stabilizing his condition so he could keep himself stable. But damn, to think he'd manage to give shit to such a monster and live. He didn't stop him because of justice, or some grand cause, or anything goody like that. He wasn't a hero, he'd never even saved anyone.
But that arrogant guy just pissed him off. That alone was plenty reason enough to make this as hard as possible for him. It almost made paying the entrance ticket worth it. His bones had shattered, and now that he'd wasted a bullet worth 75$, in a way he felt like he'd been had. Shit, he could barely keep conscious, he felt like he'd slip out any moment. Luckily the rope was knotted around his arm and was wrapped around a pole, so as long as he could keep this little flow of mana going, he wouldn't fall.
Shooting him wouldn't do any good, not in this position. Shit, at this rate he'd really die. All because he just had to follow his sentimentality and let his mouth do the thinking, if any thinking was involved. He could already feel himself fall...
His senses were fucked, he could barely see shit. Even with his reinforcement focusing on his eyes, he could barely recognize the faint figure flying over him. His numbing body could barely move. It was only by instinct that he held out his arm to catch her, feeling the impact crush him further and making him spew more blood. Gritting his teeth, he could barely think "Gotcha."