[hr][hr][center][h2][color=00ffbb]Lawrence B. Ellison[/color][/h2]
[img]http://i67.tinypic.com/zkl46a.png[/img]
On a goddamn clusterfuck of a battlefield. Population: Lawrence, Hazel, Sander, Chistmas, Kusari and Emma. Also Blue Team, Green Team, Pink Team, a random assortment of monsters, some trucks and useless (some dead) muggle guards.
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Lawrence didn't have time to feel any sense of satisfaction as his slug shattered the orb in the witch's hand, the world went to shit far too fast.  Firstly, and least important: The released glitter shredding him with superficial wounds. Blood and pain danced across his flesh in equal measure, but did not inflict nearly the level of damage on him as it did the witch. Secondly, a spike of panic filled him as the monster retaliated with a magical spear that [i]thankfully[/i] didn't skewer him. Thirdly, that black spear [i]did[/i] apparently shut off his magic, or stripped it from him completely, an idea that he would have to explore in more detail later.  Either way, the effect it had on him was immediately clear as the familiar glow surrounding him shut itself off at the moment of impact. Fourthly, a scream from behind him confirmed that throwing his power onto their healer had been a wise move on his part, and now the boy was probably going to get himself killed without it. Fifthly, the monsters advancing upon him, now stripped of his meager powers with and carrying an unloaded firearm, demanded his attention instead of stopping said panicking healer. Sixthly, due to said now-unloaded shotgun, his ears were ringing again, adding yet another layer of irritation to this rapidly deteriorating battle.

Lawrence was, quite frankly, sick of this shit.

If the situation slipped out of your control, you simply had to go with the flow. Right now, he needed to stop himself from being killed, all other goals were secondary. Judging by how easily the Eyepion had flung his teammate away just a moment ago getting kicked by it would [i]hurt[/i]. Being on the receiving end of that was not exactly high on Lawrence's to-do list. His shotgun had done little to penetrate it, and it had also survived a blow from his presumably supernatural-strength teammate.  Still, it was an eyeball...

With little to lose and no time for alternatives, Lawrence scooped up his temporarily forgotten beverage from the ground and unscrewed the lid with a sharp twist. Steam and the smell of coffee greeted his efforts, the thermos having done it's job admirably to keep the beverage hot. Seventhly, and mostly sadly, Lawrence would not have a chance to finish his final coffee of the day. Now he would [i]have[/i] to survive this battle, lest he let his last chance to taste the drink go to waste.

Fully annoyed by this point, and glad for his power's current malfunction, he threw his coffee into the Eyepion with a snarl, just as a great flash was erupting across the battlefield. Wondering just how bad the situation had to be for Ethan to drop a nuke, he discarded thermos immediately after and snatched his box of shells off the ground in one movement. Intent on getting the [i]Hell[/i] away before it had the chance to retaliate fully.  The witch was of course still an issue. And the dog things. And the dolls. And probably the Eyepion if his great sacrifice turned out to be a wasted effort, but he had to focus on one threat at a time. 

As he began running, adrenaline beginning to pump through him, Lawrence broke the action on his shotgun once more and the spent shell ejected over his shoulder, quickly being replaced by a fresh one. With each pump of his heart he could feel the cuts covering him throb, and soak a little bit more blood into his white shirt. A shirt he would now have to replace. 

Battles were a pain in the ass.