040 The First Meeting
They say a fight is won in the moments before the fight; as you see your enemy, and the arena you will fight in; as you look into the eye of your opponent; as you see their conviction, and measure the desire in their heart.
They say, all things being equal, fear will decide the outcome. Not who has the least...but who can master it. But when neither has fear... desire... conviction... then it is back to just you, your enemy, and the arena.
She entered the warehouse taking long strides. Not a natural walk, but one a woman learns: Exaggerated swaying of the hips, each foot crossing the other and her arms swinging loose at her sides. A sexy walk meant to attract the attention of men…to lure them out of their senses and sometimes out of their life.
I appreciate the walk, but not for the artistic reasons. Her long strides are measured. One foot solid on the ground before the next one comes up. Swaying hips giving her balance to move any direction. The swinging arms move deliberately close to her body, and gains her even more balance. She uses the space to her advantage. Her path keeps her in the center of the room, but under the I-beams that support the roof. With those long legs she could make the beams... making a two dimensional fight go three-dimensional. Too bad, its one of my favorite tricks.
She is tall... long of limb and leg. Her movements have grace and precision. She has tried to hide her face. Long black cloak, dark pants and shirt, like a military jump suit with head cover. She is pale; I can see her dark eyes almost like empty sockets. She could have hid those eyes too... but she wanted me to see them... and to see mine.
Her feet changed rhythm slightly as she approached. Most wouldn't notice it. Just a slight change to make sure she reached me at the precise distance she wanted. I still have reach on her in both arm and leg, just barely. She stops just outside that reach. Odd, I would have thought she'd come in close... to use the speed she obviously has… before I can use my strength. Of course, I'm pretty fast myself.
"Richard B. Riddick," she purred. "Born on earth, no data on parents. Fostered to a nasty old bitch that you later killed. Nice job on that, beautiful arterial red pattern in those photos." She giggled a sound so child like it was unsettling. "In and out of penal institutions, recruited by The Family." The shape of her lips more a sneer than a grin.
"The man who single-handedly trashed the triple max joint, Butcher's Bay. Killer of the raptors of the night. Slayer of the alien merc queen." Her eyebrows popped up and she smiled. "Again, trashed a triple max prison... Crematoria? You orchestrated the escape of 5 other prisoners." She paused... looking at me. "Did you kill Toombs? Such a useless man, but he made me laugh." she continued on with out waiting for a response. "The man who took over the entire Monger horde… and made them disappear. Some… private war?"
She stood motionless the whole time, a slight sway, staying on her toes in case I make a move on her.
"You may have actually killed more people than me. So few can truly appreciate that like I can." She was serious now. "She is in no danger from me; safer than with anyone... even you."
She tensed, staring me straight in the eyes.
Shaking my head "Lady, you do like the sound of your own voice, don't you."
Mistake... she just wanted me distracted.
Her leg shot out faster than the eye could see: A sidekick. It gave her the extra distance she needed with me just outside her range. I had time to realize she how good she was. The kick was angled, her shoulders dropped down to align the spine with the leg that was kicking. She wasn't at full extension but just beyond it: a power move. If she had missed, or miscalculated, she could have landed on her ass. She didn't, she caught me in the chest. I flew back three feet and struck the doorframe hard.
I let my momentum bounce me right back at her. She went for two fast punches to my face that I deflected with one sweeping block, and brought my other forearm hard towards her face. The plan was to sweep aside any blocks and plant the front of my elbow somewhere about her nose…but after throwing two punches she was still quick enough to get her block up.
My arm felt like it hit a tree trunk. My mass and momentum should have forced her arm back into her face, but she stood fast. The soles of her boots only slipped an inch or so from the combined force that should have knocked her on her ass, at least.
Fast as a snake, she locked my wrist with one hand. Her grip was like steel. She twisted my wrist down, and backwards. Her other hand smashed down on my elbow to break it. There was a loud crack; the pop vibrating through our entwined limbs. She threw me aside carelessly; she was sure she'd done permanent damage.
Funny thing about me... elbows, shoulders, knees... all double jointed... hurts like hell, but don't break easily.
She smiled as I arose slowly, cradling my grotesquely twisted arm. One quick movement snapped it back into place.
"Interesting" she mused. The smile was feral with anticipation.
We paced around, both trying simple combinations of punches, blocks and kicks, feeling each other out. She moved faster than thought. She was stronger than her thin frame should allow. She gave more than she got.
The circle widened to give us each a moment of space. Her hands moved to her collar. She unbuttoned it slowly, her eyes looking me up and down even more slowly. She tossed it aside casually. The feral grin never left her lips. She closed the distance a little, hips swaying again in unconscious exaggeration. The rocking stroll of a woman intent on seduction, not slaughter.
I angled backwards. One entrance, one exit. I always know where the exits are.
She paused, her hands smoothing across her hips, reaching slowly behind her. She removed a needler pistol with one hand, dangling it from the butt with two fingers and threw it across the room with the same lazy indifference she'd tossed the cloak.
"Not at all how I want to see your blood spilled. Shall we try blades? I hear you are quite good, Richard." Then she produced a long thin blade from behind with the left hand.
I took out my own: shorter and curved... more shiv than blade. "Hypatia," I said with a single nod.
"So you have heard of me as well? I do hope she did not make me out to be too much of an angel."
"What's the Family paying you?" I was testing.
"Oh, my dear boy. I do not work for the Family. So rude and… unimaginative, those Earthlings. You were lucky to get out when you did."
She closed on me quickly. We were only testing, sizing up the other's ability. Her blade could not get past mine, but she was fast with fist and foot. Her blows struck several times.
I picked up my pace a bit, twice scoring hits that turned out to be only cloth as she twisted away from my blade. Was she Furyan? No human could be that fast.
I locked her blade. When she brought her other hand up to clear it, I caught her wrist. We stood deadlocked: wrist in hand, and blade on blade. We could not budge each other. Interesting.
Good thing I was expecting it because I could not see it happen. I felt her twist in my grip. She snapped her leg between us to the outside, and swept up and back to try to kick me in the face. It was a perfect crescent kick. I twisted to the left, lifting her clear off her feet, and pitched her to the side. As she went over, I gave her a parting gift to the face with my fist.
She rose, smiling. No blood, so not as solid a blow as I thought. We commenced the dance again.
She kept her left side to me, hiding her right hip, and keeping her right hand near her body. Probably had a second blade. Must be how she wanted to see my blood spill. An old trick, but old tricks stay around because they work so well. I know the old tricks too.
I gave ground and exposed my left shoulder to her. She was fighting left-handed, it's what she would be looking for, waiting for. If she went for it she would have to lunge with that hidden right hand. I could step past that blow, it would put my back to her, but I should be able to run my blade from hip to shoulder up her body, or arm if she tries to stop it. Both work for me, dead or one handed, either shortens the fight considerably.
She took the bait. Spinning toward me like she was planning a heal kick, instead she produced a nice little kartan and lunged. A perfect move to impale a man's eye or throat. The kartan's handle fits the hand like brass knuckles, the blade protruding straight from the fist, making any punch lethal.
I stepped past the blow. As I turned I noticed her feet try to adjust to the move… too late, I was already there. I brought my knife back and she started to check her lunge. Was she going to try to bring that fist knife back to me? I started my cut; she'd brought her left arm up to parry my blade… again too late I was already there. My blade bit flesh, I felt cartilage and bone as I brought it up. I heard her grunt in pain, and saw her dagger coming back at me as I finished the turn to step away out of reach… too late… it was already there.
It caught me just below the collarbone. Not deep, though, good thing I was turning away form her.
I completed my turn. We ended a few paces from each other, looking over the damage we had done. Her cut had been shallow but had nicked my carotid; great place to cut someone, bad place to be cut. Would have sworn she could not get that blade back that fast. My blood spewed till I pinched it shut, then it just oozed between my fingers.
I'd flayed her open from wrist to shoulder, opening the whole arm up and making it useless. But there was no blood… only a milky colored fluid poured out of the wound. No exposed muscle, tendons, or bones… just synthetic metal fibers, tubing, and steel.
The flow of the milky white fluid slowed but it was obvious that the arm no longer worked.
"Fucking cyborg." I leaned back against a crate, not yet light headed from blood loss and still holding onto my knife. The situation was looking grim. Can't use the right arm cause of the wound… cant use the left or I would bleed out in a few minutes, might anyway without help.
She squatted and touched the pool of blood on the floor. She smiled as she swirled it with her finger. "Not a cyborg Richard, Artificial Person. AP if you prefer." She looked vexed as she examined her own wound, but her eyes were drawn back to the pool. "Such a beautiful red… almost makes this repair worth the trouble." She licked her fingers. "You might be better than sex, Richard."
I made no comment. The door behind her opened silently, and closed quickly. Not Jack; the girl I'd been following only resembled Jack enough to suck Hypatia in. Can't be Zemma, she's only managing to get partway down the gangway, and then only at night and with her cloak pulled over her face to limit the view.
Don then.
Hypatia smiled at me as her eyes darted to the side. "Has my little doll comes back to me?" She whispered. She clutched the Kartan in front of her. Whatever she called muscles tighten in preparation for the new arrival.
The lights went out.
As my lenses popped up, I couldn't help it… I laughed. The sound echoed through the place, covering the sounds of footsteps and gaining another glare from Hypatia. "Can your artificial eyes see in the dark?" Did you hear that Don? We're not playing with just anyone here.
"Quite well," Hypatia wasn't afraid to give away her secrets. She rose from the floor smoothly, ignoring the damaged arm as she turned slowly in place, trying to get a bead on the intruder.
"Come, Jack. You know this wont make any difference." Hypatia's voice was sweet, as if appealing to a child. "Time to go, my pet. If you behave, I will let your hero live. It would be pity to waste such a fine specimen."
Hypatia moved with speed towards some sound. She leapt into a high front spin kick. Not meant to make contact, the move made her hard to hit, might frighten the unaware or inexperienced. Hypatia must be used to severely underestimating Jack...maybe everyone.
A figure darted out of the darkness some away feet from where the AP expected there to be a hiding body. A slashing movement, a tight roll, and the assailant was gone again in the wake of Hypatia's curses.
Don, why didn't you bring a gun?
"Having trouble, there?" I hoped my words would cover the sound of feet running lightly.
"I've got time, Richard. Do you?" She spoke over her shoulder at me, again with the giddy voice. I ground my teeth at the noise of it.
"The hero is bleeding out," she went on, towards the stranger. "Let's not take too long at this game."
A figure stepped out from behind cover; a knife gripped lightly, arms hung loosely at both sides. Hypatia strode confidently towards the stranger, who might have been an inch taller than her.
"Welcome…" She stopped as if noticing something wasn't quite right.
The eyes. I could see them shining clearly. Perhaps Hypatia could too.
Don launched into a vicious combination of punches and kicks, not yet trying to bring the knife into play, still feeling out this opponent… still calm in the Now. She couldn't have been expecting two of us, two Furians.
Hypatia recovered from her surprise quickly, but had already been put on the defense. With only one hand she was hard pressed to block the onslaught of blows. Some landed hard, one on her nose. Don didn't let up. He moved forward with every step Hypatia gave up to him.
Hypatia was no longer having fun.
"Who the hell are you?"
Don didn't answer her but pressed harder, his face grim.
"After I snap your neck, I'm going to cut your throat, and watch your blood mingle with Richard's on the floor until he bleeds out."
Don glanced quickly my way, that could be a big mistake for most. He might lose his focus if he realized there was a time limit here: that my time was pumping out between my fingers. I'm counting on him being more professional than that.
"Then I'll just take my girl and be on my way."
But Hypatia was running out of time too. Her fluid loss was slowing her, slowing her infinitesimally.
If Don could just get her to back up a few more feet…
But anger, or design, was pushing Hypatia's responses back up to a dangerous level. Don kept glancing my way, checking my wound? I threw a look to a spot on the floor.
Push her back… just a little more…
A small line of blood appeared on Don's arm, but he nodded, so slightly I might have imagined it.
Hypatia seemed to be in control again. "Give me Jack, now, or you'll end up like him." She shifted her weight to her right foot.
Spin kick, Don… watch out for…
Hypatia moved before I could finish the thought.
So did Don. Jack must have learned that particular trick from Hypatia… but Don had learned it from Jack already.
Don didn't try the counter; instead, he lowered his body and drove his shoulder into Hypatia milliseconds before the kick would have taken his head off. Don hit solid mass, much more solid than the thin frame should have supported.
He drove forward with his legs against the greater weight of the steel and biological body; driving her to the spot on the floor I'd targeted with that glance.
Hypatia grunted and twisted, drove the knife into Don's left shoulder, but the two of them moved a few steps closer. Don kept his head down and his other shoulder buried into Hypatia's mid section, and didn't react at all to the pain he must have felt. He pushed the two of them into the puddle of my blood.
Almost there.
Hypatia slipped as she pulled the knife from Don's shoulder, her boots losing purchase in the viscous fluid. I saw her flex, but it didn't matter now. She was close enough for me to reach. I felt the splash of warmth down my chest as I swung with my good arm, but the sudden passing resistance as I landed my mark was worth it. Boot leather and flesh parted.
Don took the brunt of Hypatia's pain-response. The witch spun away from my blade when I hamstrung her, carrying her own blade shallowly across Don's stomach to push him back and clear a path for a controlled tumble away from us both.
She stood unsteady on one leg, the other useless now, more fluid pouring out of the AP's Achilles tendon… or whatever she called that piece of equipment… and hobbled backwards watching us both closely.
Don sheathed his knife, his back to the swearing woman behind him. It was an audacious move, dismissive and arrogant. I would have done it. He picked up my knife and offered me a hand up, watching my face carefully as I watched Hypatia's. I had to press off the artery again, feeling light headed. We turned to face the enemy.
Hypatia smiled. "Mmm. Two of a kind? Very interesting. Perhaps you'll tell me your name, my dear? Don, isn't it? I thought you were only a geek. Smart and strong? Delicious. "
She shouldn't have been able to put weight on that leg, but she did. Maybe she didn't feel pain.
"Don't let Richard bleed out now, wouldn't want him permanently disabled." She turned and started for the other door, limping slightly. "Tell my pet I will see her soon." That child-like giggle the last sound they heard from her.
"Did we win?" Don asked through the harsh breaths of an old man.
"I think so… But she sure as hell didn't lose."