This chapter is dedicated to Vixenetta DeRiviera.

She didn't help me make it but it is her Birthday and I thought she would like to see her name on this chapter.

And if you have time, please check her Fic out

'Queen Clarion's Secret Service'

Chapter 3 A Brawl

"And now to business" said I,

"Yes, let's" acknowledged the Lady,

"Wherever do you need to go?"

The Lady or whoever she is opened her mouth but nothing came out. She desperately tried to utter even a single tiniest sound, instead there were only violent coughs. And then suddenly a jingle sound was made, of all the sound that could have gone out - a curse, a wine, maybe a mumble - a jingle came out, followed by a series of it. What the deuce was going on here? Did she...could she have swallowed a bell or two? And not, had the DCs perfected the arts of creating an android which, if they did was pretty impressive but only to kill the insurgents or more importantly ME and this one is apparently having a glitch for some inexplicable reason. There was no doubts now, that THING is an 'commie android spy' or an 'android commie spy', whatever. I reached into my pocket and all do a sudden I felt my nerves dying, I didn't have a weapon, how careless had I been to not remember my dagger, so it was hand-to-hand, hopefully she was not that strong.

I leapt up and tackle her down to the wodden floor, she resisted fiercely in, surprisingly, cries of 'jingly pain' but I had the higher grounds, literally, I was on top of her, punching her face with all the rage and anger like a caged animal I was while she was defining herself with her arms. Beating at a rate I didn't even know it could, my heart was supplying the bloody energy needed to take the android out. Then with lightning speed, her legs were strangling my neck, pulling me away and cutting my air supply, her calves were as tough as I had imagined. I quickly retaliated by forming a lock with my hands over her head. The intensity of the predicament was indescribable, there was no defined sound only our grunting and cracking joints, time seemed to slow down for the both of us and the only means of measuring the time was the drops of blood and sweat running down her dirty little face. I must not lose my grip or else she will win.

Unfortunately, fatigue had conquered me and I possessed no recollection or consciousness of the matter, just only excruciating pain. The last thing I remember before passing out was the agent picking me up, probably heading towards the 'station'.

AUTHOR'S notes: I have no experience in fighting whatsoever, if any of you are boxers, street fighters, martial arts master please PM me to tell what was wrong with the fight scene. I welcome both criticism and accolade, but primarily criticism.