OUT FOR BLOOD

   "Look out!  Here they come!"
   Blade glanced at Raphaela, saw her shocked countenance fixed in the direction of the farmhouse, and spun, bringing the M60 barrel up, his gaze darting high into the air over the building.  He anticipated the attack would come from a lofty elevation.
   The Warrior was wrong.
   Voicing twin high-pitched shrieks, a pair of inky figures swept down toward the Force, coming in low, barely skimming the roof of the farmhouse, their outlines stream-lined because their wings were tucked flush with their backs for greater diving speed, their arms extended in a power dive.
   Raphaela got off a dozen rounds at point-blank range, her shots smacking into the creature on the right.  But whether her bullets had no effect, or whether the thing was simply moving too rapidly to be stopped by anything, an instant later she felt awesomely strong hands clamp onto her upper arms and the creature began to surge upward bearing her with it.

DELIVERANCE

  Marlin had his survival knife free.  The rifle lay at his feet.  He grinned and wagged the knife.   "Mick wants you alive, bastard.  And I aim to deliver."  He deftly swiped the keen blade from side to side, moving forward as he did. 
  The Warrior gave ground slowly, his eyes never leaving the gleaming survival knife while his right hand streaked to his side, reaching under the leather vest, and drew his Bowie.
  Suddenly Marlin halted, taken aback by the size of the giant's knife.   "Whoa!  You play for keeps."
  Blade had no time for idle conversation.  He lanced the right Bowie at his adversary, making Marlin give way and skip to the left, and the moment the Pagan moved, Blade has his left hand on his other Bowie and knife flashed out and around and in, straight into Marlin's chest, sinking all the way to the hilt.