Just a random idea I had while watching the movie Hannibal once again. Also my first attempt at a story so if it's horrible, I'm so sorry and I'll try to get better!
Disclaimer! I do not own any of this, though I wish I did, it belongs to Thomas Harris!
Just as she had told him, any time that he wanted to have a go with her, it would be in the gym. Him taking her up on the offer—that was not something she had entirely expected.
So when he showed up in the gym wearing a slightly similar pair of clothes—a deep charcoal gray t-shirt, FBI printed across the front in big black letters, and a pair of silky midnight black knee length shots—she had expected him to go off and work out on his own. When he came over to where she was working out, she had spared him a glance and a quick nod, stopping only when he did not leave.
"What do you want, Paul?" Clarice Starling asked, her country accent shining through.
"I'm here to 'have a go' with you, Starling. Is there a problem?"
"Not at all. I just didn't expect you to take up my offer."
"Well I'm here now, so let's go. No pads, just like you said."
Flashing a grin in his direction, Special Agent starling nodded, making sure her reddish brown hair was in a sturdy ponytail before grabbing her boxing gloves. While there was going to be no pads, there was no way that Clarice was about to fight Paul with bare fists. That would not end well. Boxing gloves were the limit.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Paul? You may end up regretting it severely later."
"Don't get cocky, Starling. I think I can handle white trash like you."
The comment brought a scowl to Clarice's face, so when they were standing opposite of each other, prepared to fight, Clarice was not ashamed to take the first shot, her right fist colliding with Paul's left shoulder.
Staggering back a step from the shot to his arm, Paul Krendler could feel a sore spot on his arm already from where Clarice had punched him. She may be better than I thought, Paul told himself, though did not convince himself of this. He was still certain that he was better than her white trash country self.
Throwing a low punch right to her stomach, Clarice failed to jump back far enough, his gloved fist meeting her flat stomach. Letting the punch faze her for only a minute, Clarice quickly got back into fighting position, throwing another punch at Paul, this time hitting his right cheek with her left hand. Paul staggered in response, but quickly threw another punch. This went on for several minutes, Clarice throwing a punch and Paul staggering back, then Paul throwing a punch and Clarice being fazed by it for a minute.
After twenty-three minutes and forty-eight seconds, the fighting stopped, as Clarice punched Paul Krendler in the cheek again, this time causing him to collide with the ground. Quickly moving to stand over him, her legs on opposite sides of his waist, Clarice pulled off her gloves and tossed them aside, flashing Paul yet another grin.
"Looks like I beat you, Paul. Still think I'm just white trash?"
"You got lucky, Starling, and you know it."
Rolling her eyes gently at the man whose back was touching the ground, Special Agent Starling offered Krendler a hand, which he took easily. However, once he was standing, Clarice did not get the warm thank you that she deserved for her little bit of helping. Instead, she got a scowl from the man as he stalked off to go to the showers, not another word uttered by him. Ignoring it with ease, Clarice returned to her workout, not letting this little win she had phase her focus for long.
Two more times did these two have a sparring round before Paul Krendler was killed by Hannibal Lecter, and both times that they had a sparring round, Special Agent Clarice Starling won with little effort. She was definitely good.