Virk was losing control, again. The vampire had sped up and his hands had clashed on his neck, forcing him to kneel before he could swing a shiv. Suddenly, Anya bursted fire from her mouth, which probably saved his skin. Regardless of his state or the vampire's, which had probably changed drastically with the inferno, Virk looked at the vampire's feet, which were right in front of his knelt down body and pierced one of his last two shivs on the back of his shin. Then, using his leg as a ram, he swung it right against the rusty dagger, nailing it down deeper inside the flesh and muscle that opposed the cold steel. It couldn't come down to anything better than this: Flee. He hadn't wasted his energy with a full Thu'um cast, so he could still make something up to escape. Holding his head, now smitting the vampire with his eyes, Virk shouted. "FUS... ROH!" As soon as the raw force pushed the blood sucker back, Virk got up, with no acrobatics this time, showing how exhausted he already was, and began running, nay, skipping around, picking up more shivs from corpses awaiting for anyone who distracted Destrik again. No use... He was angry at him. After more energy was spent fleeing from the freak, he looked at the buiding where he was on at first. Climbing it again would get him more shivs back! And some time as well, from the little the vampire gave him. First he set his foot on a parapet, then a stunt to an open window's wooden door, a little exploiting in some outstanding bricks, and there! The top of the roof was again his! Already forgetting the trap he'd set, Virk slipped with a loose shingle and rolled to the edge of the building, barely escaping a painful fall. He got up and began walking as softly as he could to the closest spot to his tracks he had used to climb. Picking a tile up, he aimed at the ground searching for any enemy. "Sweet Beatrice this is heavy!" A blade was not aware of him, and instead of aiming at the vampire, Virk dropped the shingle on his head and probably killed him with the loudest neck snap he had ever heard. He immediatly sat down at his sniping edge, with his legs swinging, hanging from the top of the building, and put a tile on his lap, breathing heavily. Virk hadn't noticed, but all he did was exhausting. Sighing, focusing his energy in one last shot, before literally taking a nap on the roof, or trying to, he tried to spot the abomination. There it was, the paler of the blades, with the big hatchet in his hand and the angry pissed off look on its red eyed face. He roared not very loudly, squeaking his teeth with effort as he lifted the shingle with his both arms. Instead of insulting him, as Virk really wanted, the imperial remained silent while throwing the golden square at the aberration. Before even seeing what he had hit, he fell back, sweating a lot and closed his eyes. Not to lose all the prudence, Virk remained very silent in case someone climbed up to where he was.