/ This is a practice at writing fighting, rather pleased with it so thought I would post it up!
That was it! The final straw. He was tied to a chair, thoroughly pissed off and the last thing he wanted to hear was the rambling and raving of the buffoon in front of him. It had been a long time since he was this angry, longer still since it had been directed at someone that wasn't himself. The itch at the end of his nose wasn't going away any time soon and he ground his teeth together, his jaw square, the hollow feeling in his chest steadily growing as the moron continued to talk. Did he really think that tying him to a chair and demanding he resume the weapons programme was going to work?
Slowly, he worked on the ties that held his hands together, all the while looking as though he was listening to the demands that were being made of him. His eyes narrowed as he felt the robe begin to give – who used rope these days anyway? Did they know nothing? The moment he was free, he was going to let Dr Matthews know exactly what he thought of the idea; with his fists! The rope had chafed a little, dug into his wrists but he was nearly there now. So what if there was a little blood, there was going to be a hell of a lot more before this was over, that much he knew for sure.
"So you see Mr Stark, that's why we need you," Matthews said, bringing the bullshit presentation to a close. Nearly through, just needed to buy a little more time… Appearing as though he was thinking it over, he slowly gave a nod.
"Where would I be working?" he asked, feeling the rope give a little further. Soon…
Matthews had the audacity to smile at that, did he really believe he was going to work for him? "We have a developmental facility down in the basement," he said. Of course he did, these people always did, and it was always in the basement. Always! "It has everything you could possibly need to develop what we want…" Tony tuned out as the rubbed the ropes, slowly tucking in his thumb and pulling it through the gap he had made. Excellent. The rope tumbled from his wrists and he looked up at Matthews once more, even smiled. The man had threatened his friends, knocked him out and made him sit through the most boring presentation he had ever heard.
"There's only one thing wrong with this set up," he mumbled as he rubbed his wrists to get the feeling back into them.
"What is that?" Matthews asked.
"This presentation would have been a whole lot better if there had been coffee in it," he said. The words obviously confounded the other man, the look on his face was priceless.
"What?" he frowned. Tony stood up then and gave him a little wave, unable to resist the temptation any further. The time for talk was now over, now was the time to punch his way out of the building and run like hell to somewhere safe!
Striding forward, he brought his fist up and brought it down into Matthew's face. There was a crunch and he wasn't sure whether that was from Matthew's jaw or his knuckles, both hurt! The blow wasn't enough to knock the doctor out however; he straightened. That was when the fighting began!
Matthews snarled something incoherent and aimed a blow at his head, bringing a hand up, Tony blocked it and took a step back. The weasel was stronger than he looked. He aimed a blow at his body, the fury beginning to build in him once again. He dodged the lower blow, following it up with a chop to his shoulder. It wasn't particularly heavy but it had the desired effect. Catching his attention once again, Tony used his free hand to grab hold of Matthews' arm and pulled. He yanked forward, sending the smaller man to the floor. It wasn't a clean move however, as Matthews caught his belt and tugged him down with him.
Before he knew what was going on, the smaller man had his arm around his neck, choking the air from him, crushing his windpipe. Kicking and bucking made no difference. Flailing his arms around, he caught Matthews on the side of his head with a glancing blow. The pressure eased a fraction but soon came back stronger. Tony did it again, knowing that his face was turning a funny shade of purple. He caught his temple. Now knowing where it was, he continued to bash at it with his fist. Slowly, the pressure eased. It was enough for him to slip down and sink his teeth into the crook of Matthew's elbow. That did the rest. He rolled away coughing, knowing his voice was going to be rough for a couple of days. Tony got up, a fraction ahead of Matthews, he raised his leg and kicked him in the stomach. The moan that followed was enough. He turned and made a break for it.
He got a couple of paces before he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head, followed by a clang. Stunned, he staggered to his knees, white lights dancing in front of his eyes. Shaking his head, clearing the daze, he saw what had been thrown and grabbed it. A piece of pipe… no wonder it hurt. He could already feel wet sticky liquid flowing down the back of his neck; that was going to be sore in the morning! Now he was armed however, that was a minor advantage over the doctor at least.
Stepping back towards him, he brought the pipe up and slammed it down on his arm. The crunch that he heard this time was definitely not his. Matthews screamed! His arm was now at an ugly angle. The noise however was the last thing Tony needed, it would bring more goons into the room and he wanted to just get out of there!
Again he turned to go. Again, he was prevented. Matthews caught his ankle this time. Tony stumbled but kept his feet, "Enough," he yelled. "Do I have to break your head with this before you realise we're done?" he barked, raising the pipe once more. His voice was cracked, broken from the beating his throat had taken but it still worked. The sigh was all he needed to hear, the doctor sagged, clearly wanting to keep his life.
This time, when he turned, he did so unmolested. Escape was easy after that!