A/N Warning: there is violence in this chapter, some of it graphic but not gory.

Erik had misjudged his target slightly, catching Bahram in the shoulder rather than fully on the chest, but it was enough to send the other man stumbling and make him drop the Punjab lasso. Recovering quickly from the surprise, however, he shot a kick out at Erik's knee that he only just twisted away from. Erik tried to grapple the other man, but the rain made his grip slippery and he was instead rewarded with a blow to the stomach.

Stumbling away to catch his breath - and fiercely hoping he would not vomit - Erik sized Bahram up. The hitman was a few inches shorter than him, but slightly bulkier. Erik had a wiry strength that had won against many opponents, especially if they underestimated his abilities, but Bahram was possibly stronger and at least as well trained. He was smart too, and knew Erik's fighting style.

This isn't how I want to go, Erik thought desperately, a chill of fear tracing his spine for a moment before he pushed it away. I will win, I have to. I need to make sure Christine is okay, I need to get Nadir to safety. I need to live.

Bahram advanced again, distant lights glinting in his determined gaze. He feinted towards Erik's head then struck at his ribs, which Erik avoided and brought his elbow cracking into Bahram's jaw. Bahram recoiled but kept his feet under him, spitting blood to one side as they continued to trade blows.

Erik could feel himself gradually growing fatigued. Even in the prime of his fighting, he wasn't used to brawls lasting this long, nor to such experienced opponents. His clothes were soaked with freezing rain which also flew into his eyes, his body was growing sore, and every hit that connected left a numbing ache, even if he managed to divert it from doing real harm. He had to end it soon.

He saw an opportunity when Bahram tried to kick his leg out from under him. Instead of fully resisting, he allowed himself to be swept over, but he used the momentum and the element of surprise to grab Bahram and take him down too. It might not have worked had they been on a flat, dry surface, but they easily slid on the slippery roof and crashed down together.

Bahram tried to flip him over, but Erik kept the motion going so they rolled together, closer to the edge of the roof. He knew this would hurt them both, could possibly kill at least one of them if they landed wrong, yet he had to do as much damage to Bahram as he could. If he didn't make it out of here alive, he needed to weaken the hitman as much as possible before he went after anyone else. And Erik was determined to go down fighting.

They rolled to the roof's lip, the guttering digging into Erik's back as he gave one last shove to propel them into the air. Bahram scrabbled at the roof with one hand, but it was not enough.

They tumbled together, time seeming to slow as each tried to use the other as a shield for the incoming impact. When they did hit the ground neither was on top, and they rolled quickly apart. Both paused for a few moments, trying to draw air into winded lungs and taking stock of injuries.

Erik was grateful they had landed on rain-sodden grass rather than concrete, but it had still been a fall of several metres. If he hadn't had any cracked ribs so far, he almost certainly did now. At least he hadn't landed on his back.

He managed to shift each of his limbs without detecting any breaks or sprains, though with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he couldn't be completely sure. He had certainly ended fights in the past only to realise he had blocked out severe pain that suddenly rushed over him. Thankfully his head seemed uninjured, though as he struggled to raise it, he saw Bahram's silhouette lurching towards him out of the dark.

Erik felt the other man's weight on top of him, and tried and failed to buck him off. Bahram's bulk came in handy as he pressed Erik down, pinning his arms against his sides. Erik sensed the motion of his body and tried to jerk his head away from the blows that began to rain down. He avoided some but was inevitably caught, even as he tried to gain some purchase on Bahram's slippery clothes to pinch and twist the skin.

Erik's head slumped back, dazed, and he could do nothing about the next strikes that came crashing into his nose and cheeks. The punches stopped for a moment and he fought for breath in the reprieve, his lungs somewhat crushed under Bahram's body.

His worries suddenly compounded, however, when he felt rough rope pushed over his head and cinched around his neck. Belatedly, he realised that the hitman had not been trying to grab the roof as they fell, and was instead reaching for the lasso he had dropped. Now he had Erik trapped, and he would only get weaker as the rope tightened.

But Erik had one last trick left. Surprisingly thankful his arms were by his sides, he twisted one leg towards his hand and just managed to reach the penknife strapped to his ankle. He hadn't been stupid enough to come to the party without some protection, even if he had been greatly hampered by needing to be inconspicuous. He had been reticent to draw the knife until now, as he was all too aware how easy it was for it to be turned against him - probably the same reason Bahram had not produced any similar weapons. But this was his last chance.

Throat constricting, vision turning spotty and panic threatening to freeze his brain, Erik made one last-ditch attempt at victory and thrust the knife hard between Bahram's ribs. The other man gave a roar of pain and released his hold on the lasso, allowing Erik to gasp at the sweet, cold night air. Erik withdrew the knife and plunged it into Bahram's thigh, slashing before pulling it out again and throwing it into the shadows before he could get hold of it.

He used the last of his energy to take advantage of Bahram's surprise and pain, digging a thumb into the new wound on his leg to make him shift his balance, then throwing his body off. Unable to even pause for precious breath, Erik pulled the lasso off and threw that too, before rolling on top of Bahram and pressing his hands around the other man's throat. He didn't have time for the lasso, nor to properly pin down his flailing body, but he had to take him out now.

Erik allowed the rage that had been caged within him to finally break free; all the fury, the fear and the vengeance. The man beneath him, life now literally in his hands, had tried to take everything from him. Bahram was one Erik had fled from when he ran from Iran, losing the life he thought he loved. Now he had built a truly happy existence, and the man had ruined it all.

As his anger filled his body, Erik's attack became more frenzied, more crazed. He had to kill this man now, before he could lose anything else. Bahram had played with Erik for weeks then tried to take his life, had threatened his only real friend, and had dared to hurt his Christine.

Erik's grip tightened, squeezing harder and harder, and he began to smash the hitman's head violently against the ground, any ounce of self-control forgotten. He was suddenly glad he was using his own hands rather than the lasso, darkly pleased that he did this himself, and almost longing for the knife back in his hand, to stab and slash and mutilate his prey.

Bahram writhed, though Erik's knee dug into the wound on his side and restricted his movement. His uninjured leg kicked uselessly at the air, his hands scrabbling at Erik's. But his attempts grew weaker and weaker as Erik's hands crushed harder, and eventually he went limp.