Kurt had picked up the metal bar Cindy had given him and - forgoing any type of fancy swashbuckling parry - swung it like a baseball bat in an attempt to practice the great American pastime. Home run! It connected with the wooden soldier's head, which he effectively smashed and turned into scrap bits you might give a seven-year-old to practice hammering on.
"Cindy, you're..." She was hurt! This distressed him a great deal. The sooner they got out of here, the better. "What do you need from them?"