Spry little bastard.  He was already on his feet when Gordon caught up with him.  Without slowing, Gordon slapped one knife-hand to the side, caught the other wrist, and slammed the kid into a wall.

The kid went limp.  Gordon held his wrist, letting him dangle.

The kid’s eyes opened, and he jerked his other knife hand, pointed at Gordon’s middle.  Helen’s foot went out, pinning it against the wall.

“Damn,” the kid said.  I thought I might have seen a glimmer of fear in his eyes, but Gordon hauled him away from the wall, then cracked the kid’s head against it, hard.  He paused, watching, then did it again.

The knives fell from the boy’s hands.

Wildbow, Twig, 1.10