FB - Steal Razor

But Teasle took another snip at his hair and startled him. There were clumps of long hair scattered across the gray wet newspaper, some of them tangled around Rambo's bare feet. He expected Teasle to go on snipping at his head. He braced himself for it. But then Teasle brought the scissors too close to his right eye, cutting his beard, and Rambo instinctively dipped his head to the left.

'Hold still,' Teasle said. 'Shingleton, you and Galt hold him steady.'

Shingleton pulled his head up straight, and Rambo slammed his arm away. Teasle snipped again at his beard, catching it in the scissors, pinching his cheek.

'Christ.' He squirmed. They were too close. They were crowding him so he wanted to scream.

'This could go on all night,' Teasle said. 'Galt, go get the shaving cream and the razor off the desk.'

Rambo squirmed. 'You're not shaving me. You're not coming near me with that razor.'

Then Galt was there handing it to Teasle, and Rambo watched the long blade flash in the lights, and remembered the enemy officer slicing his chest, and that was the end. He broke, grabbing the razor and standing, pushing them away. He fought the impulse to attack. Not here. Not in the goddamned police station. All he wanted was the razor away from them. But Galt, was white-faced, eyes on the razor, and he was fumbling for his gun.

'No, Galt!' Teasle shouted. 'No guns!'


- First Blood, Part 1, Chapter 11