Thanks again for the comment Theory of Weirdness! Yep- here comes the fight!

He stopped right behind some boxes near the lab, the door just ahead of him, around the corner. But just as he was about to take a step forward, he heard some commotion happening just ahead of him. Sounds of fighting and grunting, and of bodies hitting the floor.

Bradford couldn't believe what he was hearing. If it really was her, he didn't want her to see him, here, in FOWL headquarters, like this. Hesitantly, he peeked outside the boxes, and there she was, punching his own eggheads with ease. He quietly gasped to himself as he hid behind the crates again, like a child hiding from the classroom bully.

Director 22 was absolutely the last person he needed to see now, especially like this. The second she would see his face, she would recognize him, and his entire cover would be blown. And April was just ahead of him, behind that door. If only Heron had some brains in her thick skull maybe he would've...they would've…

He shook his head, there was no time for that. In another plan, long ago, this would've been what he wanted, what they had planned. But he could no longer allow 22 to take April away from him. He had to get to that door, but he needed to drive her off somehow, to scare her away. But how, with his face exposed? If only he could-

His long claws nondescriptly touched his face, meeting something hard instead. He blinked in surprise, his vision narrowed by slits, purple vapor vanishing from around his sight. He touched the rest of his face, finding a smooth, crimson metal visor protecting it, a hole in the middle of the plate that allowed his beak to stick out unprotected. His face and eyes were now well hidden, and he hoped that 22 wouldn't recognize him by his overly large nose. If he even grunted, she'd know his voice easily.

He had to think of a plan, any plan. He checked on her again. Her hand was now inches away from the doorknob.

There was no time left.

He jumped in between her and the door, Sword pointed at her chest, stance wide and at the ready.

Bentina took a small step back in surprise, then she quickly found her footing and studied him. Bradford had a small itching that his mere presence should've shocked her more, but now he realized how much he underestimated her. Knowing 22, she won't back down without a fight first.

"Well," Bentina began, hands on her hips. "Can't say I expected some sort of a knight to show up in the middle of FOWL headquarters. But, whatever you're defending…" she glanced between the door and back, "must be extremely important to their plans."

The armored vulture tightened his grip on the hilt, his eyes narrowing between the slits. For the first time today, he felt like his nerves were made of steel and under control. He knew what to do.

22 raised up her arms, at the ready. "Very well then."

Bradford countered her first few blows at him. She was quick, but he found himself to be quicker, using his sword to parry her while also trying not to let go of his ground. His movements were random, and yet it felt like an invisible force were leading them along. He tried to find an opening for him to strike at, but a quick roundhouse kick at the metals of his jaw stopped that, stunning him momentarily for her to attempt a sidestep to get behind him.

Bradford gnashed his teeth and swung the blade to his side, blocking her, then he took another attempt at a swing. She dodged and dodged, as Bradford started forward on her, making her backup a few steps away from the door. He kept throwing landings on her to the sides, making her either dodge or block with her arms, her fortified clothing defending her from the sharp blows of his sword, the cuts slashing into the overtop of the sleeves.

The sirens above them blared. This place was going to explode in mere moments and he had to act, now. Faster and faster, he slashed the air blindly but this time he tried to put his weight into it. Then, finally he felt his sword first meet something tough, then it slid quickly from his weight and cut through something softer. He heard a pained cry.

22 kneeled down to the floor tightly gripping her right shoulder, gasping heavily and wincing, the cloth under her hand dripping red. Bradford tried catching up with his breath, his suit hot and sticky inside, but his stance and sword unwavering as he stared down at her. He spotted a red stain over the top of the blade, a flash of dark blood falling from its tip.

The agent steadily picked her head up and grimaced, a defiant look on her as she stared directly into his visor, squinting as she tried to find his yellow eyes, but only found darkness. The tall buzzard stared back through his narrow slits, determined, his right eye twitching uncontrollably.

Bentina slowly stood up, not giving away a hint of pain as she cradled her shoulder, sizing him up with a hard look. She shot a quick glance at herself then up at the glaring sirens, then said in a low voice, "Next time…you won't be so lucky."

She turned and ran back up the hallway, went around the corner, and gone. Bradford watched her go and didn't move until she was out from eyeshot, making sure she wouldn't turn back for a final fight to the death. He waited a moment, then quickly sheathed the Sword behind him, turned to the door, pulled the mask off, dropped it on the floor, and twisted the knob.