The warning bleeps on his armband increased in frequency and urgency. Behind him the sounds of pursuit faded slightly as they lost track of him in the dense scrub. He slowed down, his footfall silent on the leafy floor. His pointed ears were keen for the sounds of pursuit. It wouldn't matter if they shot him if they would at least shoot to kill. They wouldn't though. His right arm began picking at the band around his left wrist, slender, dextrous fingers exploring the electronics and helping build a mental model in his wired brain as his eyes continued to scour the area for pursuers.
It wouldn't matter if he just kept running. It wouldn't matter if the band exploded, taking him out with it. The electronics themselves weren't that complicated, the way they were put on was. He knew exactly where his combat knofe was. On some distant level he felt a tang of pain, felt the blood oozing slowly down his arm as he sliced through some skin. The expression on his face didn't change.
The knife touched the breakpoint. If he took the band off, it would explode. It was tempting. The point of the knife skimmed the breakpoint lightly and probed into the rest of the light tangle of wires. He needed two hands for this. It didn't matter. He thought about wincing without actually doing so as the knife slit a bit more skin. Slight shocks ran through his arm as he carefully cut a few wires. Ideally he should be looking at what he was doing too but hey.
The armband bleeped ominously. He pushed the cut wires back together in a different order. That should do it. Slitting the breakpoint just enough to let it slide over his hand, he slid the damned band off, pulled his dog tags off and hurled both away from him in the same direction.
The heatwave from the explosion propelled him forward on his way. He didn't bother looking where he was firing, picking the two moving targets and taking them down with his sliverguns as he sprinted through. He leaped up half the fence and scrambled agiley over the rest of it, ignoring the barbed wire ripping through his skin, and dropped down the other side.
He barely noticed the burning sensation from his new wounds as he hit the ground running, stumbling a little on landing but nonetheless continuing the momentum.
Pausing at the crest of the rise to catch his breath, he glanced disinterestedly at the compound that had been home for the last twenty odd years. His hand closed on the small pouch dangling from his belt, the contents of it pricking him lightly.
They would probably track him down eventually, once they realised he wasn't dead. Whatever. Let them come. He turned his back on the compound and headed purposefully towards the city.
