With one arm out of commission, Max was clearly at a disadvantage. There was no denying it, his movements were limited, his options fewer.
But all of that changed the moment he picked up a weapon.
In the right hands, a deadly weapon could turn the tide of any fight. Even the most powerful opponents could fall if struck at the right time, in the right place. And if the wielder actually knew what they were doing?
Then it wasn't even a contest.
Despite his personal dislike for weapons, Max was no stranger to them. In fact, he was more than capable, borderline a master when it came to handling blades, improvised or not. He had studied them, trained against them, disarmed them, and used them when necessary.
And right now, there was something else up his sleeve, something even Dud couldn't see coming.
"You think pointing a broken bottle at me actually means something?" Dud scoffed, marching forward without hesitation. "Have you ever used anything like that in your life?"
