mutated

chapter forty one: stop. catching. my. kicks. rude

I narrowed my eyes at Alpha, and we circled each other, neither willing to make the first move. Alpha had learned his lesson from all our previous battles, thank the fücking gods, so this fight was going to be even more intense. For once, I wasn't the one reacting - I was in the position of control now, and I wasn't giving it up that easily.

I leaped into action. Running towards him, I kicked up my leg, delivering a swift side kick to his chest before twisting my body, avoiding hands as he tried to catch the kick. I delivered another kick as I twisted, and just as I anticipated, he caught it, trying to knock me off my feet. What he didn't know was that it was my plan all along. As he yanked my leg towards the ground, I rolled with the momentum, dragging his body along with me as I rolled, and using whatever strength I had against him, flipped him onto his back.

I rolled back to my feet, and as he got back up, I sprinted at him again. Jumping off the ground, I sprang onto his shoulders, my legs suffocating him as arched back into a bridge, and we both flipped, him jabbing me in the stomach just as I twisted to make me release my hold. As he got to his feet, I swept my leg across the floor, knocking him off his feet, and scrambled to my own.

He landed flat on his back but got up in an impressive maneuver that I was pretty sure just wasted more energy just to look cool. He ran at me this time, fists poised to strike, a deadly glare on his face. 

I dodged to the side, catching his right fist with one hand and jabbing with the other, hitting his trachea at his neck. He reeled backward, suddenly struggling to breathe, and I took this advantage to charge again, sending another roundhouse kick at his chest. He stumbled backward, attempting to regain his balance, just as a block rose the ground, stopping his retreat. He glanced behind him in a mixture of curiosity and confusion, which one was more prominent I couldn't tell, but what I did realize was a cunning smirk plastering itself on his face.

He ran towards me, and I ran to meet him, expecting it to be another hand-to-hand combat fight. Instead, he changed directions at the last minute, turning into a hasty retreat - or so I thought. He ran up the wall, flipping over my head until I was the one cornered.

"You stole my move," I said between ragged breaths.

He shrugged, equally extorted. "Had to start learning somewhere."

He jabbed at me, and I blocked it with my forearm, and the fight became a fight of reaction time. Our arms were hitting and jabbing and blocking, and it was only experience and muscle memory that enabled me to keep up with his speed. He caught me off guard with a right hook to my cheek, I retaliated with an uppercut to his jaw, and this deadly game of sticky fingers began to heat up.

I struck him at his neck (I seemed to be doing it a lot: must be because of my height since that's the only thing I can see all the way down here in shortville) just as he swung his fist at my face, and I ducked down, bring my knee up right in between his legs. He let out a gasp of pain, his face contorting into an expression that I expected was anguish, and he stumbled back, allowing me the freedom to swing another punch at him.

He caught it - why does he always catch them? - and pushed me forward with my own momentum, flipping me forward. I, having watched way too many TV series for my own health, continued the flip, and instead used that momentum to flip him over as well. He, in turn, followed the flip and tried to flip me over as well, but I was prepared. Instead of flipping forward which he thought I was going to do, I twisted sideways, launching myself around his waist and onto his back, where I kicked off, elegantly landing on my feet a few meters behind me. He stumbled forward, and I edged towards the side of the cage.

The side of the cage, as far as I knew, had a 10-second countdown before it sent a wave of electricity through whoever was touching it. The only reason I knew that was because I had coerced it out of Chase when I got his mind thinking about the cage matches and electricity, which allowed his mind to be centered with the security situation. I had attempted to get the information from Max, but his crazy intelligence had predicted it before I even spoke to him, and had therefore set up his mind-wave repelling whatever-it-was thingy, which zapped me the moment I tried to get through his mind.