With grateful thanks to my betas Mirth and Jay as always
Warnings: Shocking lack of plot, and Eliot's language.
Eliot Spencer vs. Chuck Norris
The flat handed punch hit Eliot square in the chest, forcing him to stumble backwards, giving Norris enough space to launch a roundhouse kick at him. Eliot desperately tried to move out of harm's way as he brought up his arms to deflect the blow, knowing he was to off balance to make a grab for the leg and put Norris down on his ass.
The kick connected, jarring against his arms instead of kicking him in the face. Ignoring the pain that shot through them Eliot immediately threw a punch, hitting Norris in the face, following through with his elbow. Norris stumbled away, but blocked the punched aimed at his solar plexus. With a steel-like grip, Norris encircled Eliot's wrist, stepping to the side and wrenching his arm up, forcing Eliot to bend at the waist and take a step forward or risk having his shoulder dislocated. A knee to the face had him seeing stars; his arm was released as he fell to his knees, pain flaring through his shoulder and face. He staggered back to his feet, wiping at his nose, smearing crimson blood across his face onto the sleeve of his shirt. He squared back up, fists raised, as the smug son of a bitch Norris smiled politely at him, arms held loosely at his sides. Eliot wanted to rip the smile of the bastards face, but he swallowed his anger, knowing it would lose him the fight.
Eliot threw a calculated punch, which should have wiped the bastards smile right of his face, but Norris side stepped, kicking out Eliot's knee, following up with a kick to his ribs, bruising more and cracking others. Eliot stumbled into a table, causing it to slide across the floor a few inches with a grating moan of protest. Eliot immediately straightened, spinning round to protect his back, trying not to breathe too deeply. He wiped at his battered nose again which still bled sluggishly.
He charged Norris, shoulder down, hitting the older man in the stomach, taking him down. He got two good punches in before Norris hit him hard in his ribs with the heel of his hand, breaking his already cracked ribs. Eliot rolled away from the pain, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Norris while he got control of the pain. The smug fucker Norris did a kip-up from the floor in a smooth graceful movement which belied the man's age and promptly kicked Eliot in the face, opening up a gash above his right eye, causing Eliot to stumble backwards though he managed to keep his feet, but failing to get his arms up in time to block the punch aimed at his right eye, Eliot lost his balance and fell on his ass with a thud. Norris the fucking fucker stepped back, arms held loosely at his sides again, the goddamn fucking irritating smile back on his face. The bastard wasn't even breathing that hard, and aside from a few bruises on his face had no other sign of injury. Eliot groaned at the unfairness of it.
He heaved himself to his feet, wiping at the blood on his face with both shirt sleeves, he squared off again, moving toward Norris, he feinted with his right and hit with his left, managing to fool Norris and punch the man hard in the jaw, causing him to stagger. Eliot leaped forward and delivered two quick punches to Norris' stomach, before turning and grabbing Norris' arm and flipping the man over his shoulder, right onto a table that protested the move by collapsing.
Eliot stood, trying not to sway, as he waited for Norris to get back on his feet. Norris didn't move, Eliot took a cautious step forward and kicked at the man's feet, still nothing. He kicked at the feet again, harder. Nothing. He moved an inch closer, noting that Norris was breathing normally. He crouched down biting back a pain-filled groan, one hand checking for a pulse, the other clench into a fist, ready to strike. The pulse was strong and steady but Norris still didn't move a muscle. Eliot slowly stood up, a hand held against his ribs, keeping an eye on Norris as he moved away.
The bell over the door tinkled as someone stepped through, Eliot let out a heartfelt sigh as he slowly turned towards the newcomer, knowing he was in no condition to take on a feather duster, let alone another opponent.
"Oh, hell no."
Eliot relaxed as his eyes and ears confirmed the identity of the intruder. "Dammit, Hardison," he snapped out, partly in relief but mainly because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Hardison walked further into the wrecked bar, taking a look at the downed man. He turned to stare at Eliot in horrified awe, pointing at Norris' prone body.
"That's, that's..." he stammered out, looking at Norris and then back at Eliot. Eliot grinned smugly, looking even more feral with blood smeared across his teeth. "You put the smack down on Chuck Norris?" The last two words were almost squeaked out.
Eliot looked across at Norris, then back at Hardison, he nodded. Hardison patted him on the shoulder causing him to wince, making him snarl, which the younger man ignored.
"Damn, E. You put the smack down on Chuck Norris!" Hardison said with excited awe. He then seemed to notice Eliot's condition, the blood covered face, the swollen eye, the hunched shoulders the indicated painful ribs, weight on one leg. "Hospital?" he queried.
"Yeah," Eliot agreed, because, damn man, he'd just put the smack down on Chuck. Fucking. Norris. Hardison moved forward, gently placing Eliot's arm over his shoulder, as his arm slid round Eliot's waist, helping him towards the entrance. The bell above the door tinkled again as Hardison opened it, manoeuvring Eliot through it and towards Lucille.
Chuck Norris waited for a few moments after he heard the door close and then gracefully rose to his feet, brushing a sliver of broken table from his shoulder. The bar was a total shambles, the patrons and staff fleeing as the fight broke out and as the establishment was in the part of town where, even in the unlikely event someone called the police, it wouldn't be given a priority. Chuck walked towards the end of the bar and took his jacket down from the coat rack, shrugging into it, wincing as sore muscles protested. He gingerly explored his bruised face, wincing as he pushed too hard on his swollen cheek.
He smiled. Yes, Eliot Spencer was a worthy opponent, and a worthy successor. Chuck hadn't had this tough a fight since the 1980s. With luck he could now finally retire and step out of the limelight and off the blasted internet. And with Alec Hardison being an internet guru, Chuck knew the news of this fight wouldn't stay quiet for long.
Now it was Spencer's turn to be the internet bad ass.
"When Chuck Norris does pushups, he doesn't push himself up, he pushes the world down," he quoted quietly to himself as he walked out of the door. Seriously?
Kip-up - is one of several names for an acrobatic move in which a person transitions from a supine and less commonly, a prone position, directly to a squatting position by propelling the legs, and consequently the entire body, away from the floor