Vito strode into the building and took in the entire scene in an instant. As fast as he whipped out his gun, he turned it aside when he saw Carver grab Christy from behind and duck behind her. She tried to pull away, but she was no match for someone nearly twice her size. Carver tauntingly ran his hand through her hair.
"Is Christy out past her bedtime? Don't worry, I've been supervising," he said. Vito would have looked even more furious if that was possible. His stony silence froze the room.
As Carver and Vito engaged in their pissing contest, Christy was stuck in the middle trying to get far away. She wasn't worried about her father. He'd be fine and he'd get her out of there even if she didn't do anything. But she did want to make it easier for him. She thought back to all the times he'd come home from arresting some mugger or assailant and insist that she learn another self-defense move. Due to his unrelenting thoroughness, she had moves for every possible scenario, including an attack from behind. It used to be she resented his spontaneous lessons when the only spontaneous activity from him she wanted was an offer to drive her to the mall, but at last she saw the use for them. She raised one foot, tilted her toes upward, and ground it down into Carver's foot.
She'd hoped for a more dramatic reaction, but Carver only moved his foot back and loosened his grip slightly. It was still enough for her to squirm free and dart around the car, leaving a barrier between her and Carver. Vito, knowing that Carver and Christy were still too close for him to safely shoot, instead attacked in a more old-fashioned way. He charged at the car and vaulted over its trunk, hitting Carver like a torpedo. Carver tried to throw Vito off and he landed on both feet as neatly as a cat. Christy took the opportunity to flee the danger zone.
I should help! He doesn't need help. What do I even do? Should I go for more help? I don't want to distract him. Christy huddled behind a pile of tools and watched the fight play out.
It was a strange clash of styles. Carver was clearly used to street style fighting that focused on heavy hits and quick dodges. Vito confounded his efforts with a refusal to take a single hit. He would sidestep, back away, or deflect Carver's strike into a harmless movement. His eyes showed his focus, but the fight seemed so easy to him he might as well have been dancing. Each man attempted to co-opt and divert the other's attacks for their own use.
Vito snapped forward like a snake at Carver's throat, striking it with stiffly pointed fingers. Carver swiped his arm sideways and tried to yank him around for a choke hold. Vito bent forward and tossed Carver over his back and onto the floor, twisting his arm until it cracked. Carver was quick enough to avoid a worse fracture and kicked a leg out at Vito's knee. Vito was not one to let a downed enemy lie, and he kicked Carver in the face as he tried to rise. Carver rode out the blow and took advantage of the distance it put between him and Vito to get back to his feet. He kicked at Vito's midsection and Vito snagged his leg out of the air and pulled it out from under him. Carver tangled his other leg around Vito's and pulled him along with him. When Carver tried to jump onto Vito, Vito stuck his arms out straight and flipped him across the floor. He was back up and in fighting stance before Carver even stopped sliding.
"Is it harder when you're not fighting a girl?" Vito taunted in a whisper. "I usually don't fight girls myself, but I'll make an exception."
"You'll never stop us. You can't comprehend what I'm fighting for," Carver said as the two searched for an opening.
"I know what I'm fighting for. And she's worth everything to me," Vito said. My dad is the coolest, Christy thought.
Carver backed up and grabbed a length of chain from a crumbling shelf on the wall. He wrapped one end around his hand like brass knuckles and swung the other end at Vito like a flail. Vito danced around the thrumming lasso and snatched Carver's hand. He pivoted around Carver, still holding his hand, and bent his elbow around Carver's neck, pulling it tight until he was choking. He locked his under arm around Carver's torso in a restraining hold and bent over him as Carver tried to struggle free. Carver slammed his cracked elbow back into Vito's stomach and jerked free. He turned around and punched Vito in the stomach with his chain hand, but Vito absorbed the blow and sent a flurry of punches into his chest and neck. Carver grabbed the gun out of his holster and Vito smacked his hand aside so forcefully the gun clattered across the room. He kicked Carver's knee and smashed his elbow into his face when Carver bent from the blow. Carver shoved him back suddenly and ran for the gun. Quick as thought, Vito grabbed a brick from the debris adjoining a wall and flung it at him. It hit his back and he stumbled forward, inches from the gun.
Should I grab that? No, I should stay out of the way, Christy thought. Fearing more collateral damage and possible destruction of the walls and sheltering pile in front of her, she darted across the room and dove into the driver's seat of the car. She slammed the door shut and locked it as the fight went on.
Vito ran up beside Carver and kicked the gun away just as Carver's long fingers fell across it. Carver threw himself out of kicking range and rolled to his feet acrobatically. He threw all his weight behind a punch that would have beheaded Vito had it landed. Instead, Vito jerked his head aside and sent a flat hand striking into Carver's ribs. Carver smashed his elbow into Vito's back. Vito grabbed Carver around the waist and charged sideways, smashing them both into the half-finished wall behind them. The precarious drywall crumbled under the attack and the two men fell outside the building in a cloud of dust. Christy, watching from the car, soon found her view blocked by the remaining wall.
"You done already? Had one too many, maybe? Maybe there's a reason for the stereotypes," Vito said as Carver tried to get to his feet. Carver wiped the blood from his mouth and spat something in Gaelic.
"You've already lost. Whatever happens to me, the fight goes on. When that hospital blows sky high, they'll have you to thank. But please, enjoy the party. Maybe they'll have you cut the ribbon," Carver said. Vito pulled him down by the shirt and yanked his knee up into Carver's stomach. He stepped around behind him and bent over him, dangling him by the collar.
"Your fight is to kill a bunch of kids? You want to think about that maybe?" Vito asked.
"They die for a glorious cause," Carver said.
"Then so can you," Vito said. He seized the back of Carver's head and smacked it onto his knee. There was a crack like a dropped egg, and Carver fell limply to the ground. Vito threw him sideways and he landed in front of the open garage door, showing Christy the outcome of the fight.
Vito turned his back and started walking back to the gap in the drywall. He didn't want to even walk past Carver's body. Let him lie where he fell, abandoned by kin and country.
