Polaroïd

Sparring to death

Out of the frying pan... into the fire ! I hope you enjoy, action is not my forte but I'm getting better at it. Mads Mikkelsen is a very active and efficient fighter on top of being a dancer.  The fighting scene from Polar is a little dark, but you get my meaning. Cheers. And please leave me a comment :)

Shadow realized, too late, that the steady rhythm of the axe was missing.

A woosh was her only warning as said axe came rushing, spinning on its axis with deadly precision.

Her reflexes saved her from a painful scalping, her body jerking backwards before her brain could process it. The sudden movement also deported her from the branch she was crouching upon, and down she went without any hope to regain her balance.

Shirtless, Duncan cursed himself for his naiveté. Even at home, even after leaving four fake addresses and living in a cabin in the middle of the woods, he would never be safe. But who could possibly be crazy enough to dare attacking the black Kaiser ? His long strides took him the table when his gun rested when a painful cry echoed in the woods. Feminine, definitely, he noted as he reached for the weapon. One more yard, and the Black Kaiser would be rightfully armed. He extended his hand to the table, intend on swirling around the moment his fingers found the cold metal of his favourite gun. One more yard that he never got the chance to cover as gunshots sounded in the forest.

Duncan jolted backwards, incredulous. One more shot and his gun was flung from the table, damaged beyond repair by the precise bullets that hit it squarely. Incredible ! As he retreated swiftly to his original position, the Kaiser's quick mind couldn't help but register that the woman had taken his weapon out of reach with a skillfull shot but not buried a bullet into his skull. She probably wanted him to talk... but why not cripple him then ?

Whatever. A dire mistake; she'd pay for it.

His hands worked on their own accord as they grabbed two pieces of a log he'd just cleaved and lifted his eyes to the prawling form that advanced to meet him. He knew who she was at once, or so he thought. Shadow.

They had never worked together – Black Kaiser and Shadow mutually excluded themselves - but any hitman knew of her. Long mane of fiery hair, Kevlar vest, tight leather pants, the crawl of a panther and a reputation to die for. Literally.

In any other circumstance, he might have admired the fluidity of her moves and the gentle curves of her toned silhouette. Duncan was partial to beautiful women... but this one might very well prove to be her downfall. If his attacker really was Shadow, he wouldn't make the mistake to underestimate her.

He launched the first piece of log with all his might, the other following suit. The woman blinked, as if she couldn't believe he'd really done that. Then she twisted aside like a feline, ondulating out of the way. The first log passed her face by mere inches.

'Twack'

Her cry was laced with anger; her weapon lost with the force of the blow upon her slender wrist. Somehow, her anguished voice tightened his chest with an unknown feeling. As is something was bleeding inside of him.

Strange.

Duncan didn't dwell on this strange un unwelcome sensation, pressing his advantage. There was no future, no past and no distractions in a fight. Nothing but the present. She was weaponless; he unsheathed the hunting knife from his belt and charged before she could recover.

Warm chocolate eyes widened at his boldness. In the seconds it took for Duncan to reach her, he searched for weaknesses in her outfit. His whole frame dwarfed her; with his height, he probably weighed forty pounds more than she did. If he could crash into her full force, she'd be unconscious upon impact. But instead of twisting away, the young woman barely flinched and launched herself forward to meet him head on.

Mad woman !

At the last moment, she lurched to the left, avoiding his knife to the throat and deviating his arm in an aikido esquive he knew all too well. Duncan humoured her, allowing his right hand to be swatted away to slam his left fist into her ribs instead. That would teach her to give a man so massive some momentum. The woman barely grunted although he could feel the crack beneath his fingers. Duncan almost winced in sympathy. Almost. Yet something within rebelled and he buried the need to protect mercilessly in the depths of his soul.

That woman was a danger to his life. Already, she was meeting him head on. So fast, so flexible, slippery like a fish in a stream as she twisted and turned to avoid his blunt blows. Her fiery hair, a mix or brown and deeper red, danced around. She landed a few blows of her own, nothing crippling or lethal, just enough for him to grunt and slow down. Until she crouched down, avoiding another hit, and took advantage of her position to land an uppercut that rattled his teeth. Damn, she had mean punch ! The next second, her foot caught his plexus. The hitman heaved, his chest refusing to take the much-needed breaths as he staggered back.

But she didn't press her advantage, staring with heated eyes, taking in the full expense of him as if... as if he was the most precious man in the world. Reddish strands framed her face, escaped from the tight braid, some sticking to her skin where bead of sweats rolled down her temples. Despite the mighty bruise he'd probably sport later, Duncan couldn't help the surge of admiration. Shadow definitely was a woman who called his respect, be it from her skills or her singular beauty. For her features were lovely, just as much as the intensity of a warm chocolate eyes. Very different from the usual classic beauties he sometimes worked with, especially Vivian. No, she held a different type... something warm, hidden behind the mask. Something he could nearly touch with his fingers. And few survived a fight with him. Yet... she wasn't the first beautiful and deadly woman he met. Her chest heaved; she, too, was trying to regroup.

Duncan pushed the pressure away, taking a forced breath to regain his internal balance. Too bad for her; she didn't cripple him when she had the chance. Tightening his grip on the hunting knife, he planted his feet on the ground, ready to lash out. The young woman smirked then, rolling her shoulders to remove her leather jacket with catlike grace. The sleeves slid down her arms in such a sensual dance that he couldn't help but blink; a tigress in bed ? Then she adapted her stance, leather jacket stretched between her hands as she invited him. Just a tiny lift of her eyebrows, a cynical expression that should have vexed him profoundly. But the Back Kaiser wasn't one to give in to those emotions. Analytical and quick thinking were the reason he was still alive today.

Slowly, he took the time to circle her, hunting knife at the ready, muscles glistening with sweat. She barely shifted her feet, following his every move, feet attuned to the disparities of the ground; she expected a snakelike strike. There was no way around this unless he accepted to back off. Duncan eventually attacked. A feint to the right with the knife, then his fist lunging at her. She dodged his blow with a swift rotation – his mistake for pulling the same move again – sending him slightly off balance. This time though, she pressed her advantage, lunging at him to gather his right hand and twist the leather jacket around. One mighty pull on the fabric sent the hunting knife clattering upon the rocks.

— "Olé!", she cried, hopping away from him to kick the weapon away before he could reach it.

Her playful exclamation rooted him to the spot, and Duncan couldn't help but remark the twinkle in her eye. Almost as if she was enjoying herself. At last, she had found someone that measured up to her. The reverse was also true... a long-lost memory, a dream perhaps slammed into his mind. The memory of warm chocolate eyes taunting him at swordpoint. Sparring.

The truth was, he was starting to enjoy himself as well. Be it from this strange vision, or the challenge he didn't know.

A strange moment, when both opponents enjoyed the challenge of sparring do death...