The Vanguard Vixen

Project Mainstream (One)

Under the mask, he still looked the same as she remembered. Wild blue eyes and a maniac grin, only that the left half of his face had been badly burned, and a few tufts of hair were missing from that side of his head. He dropped the gun and kicked it under the bed.

"That was stupid," Vivian told him. Despite the fact that F.O.X soldiers were trained in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, having a weapon was always an advantage. Long-range weapons were the most effective—guns, and arrows. And then slicing weapons, third came stabbing. Blunt weapons were way down the list. They had been taught not to drop the advantage. Especially against a formidable opponent.

"I cannot use a gun to take your head off. Isn't it obvious?"

He kicked the spinning chair at her so suddenly that if it hadn't been for her lightning reflexes she wouldn't have been able to clear it. Before she landed back on her feet he was there, and he landed a heavy forearm on the side of her face. Vivian spat blood from her mouth. If she hadn't turned her face at the last moment, she would have had a very broken nose.

He attacked again, squaring up his shoulders and blasting punches towards Vivian, who bobbed and wove with ease, being able to see them coming a mile away. But the space was a small one. One of the things that had been greatly discouraged was letting oneself get caught in a fight within a small space.

 It was one of the reasons why Vivian hated elevators. Soon enough her back was against the wall, and with nowhere to go, she had to attack. She held up a hand and blocked an oncoming blow, then pushed forward with a flurry of her own punches. There was no space to kick in the little room, not with two bunk beds on either side and a corpse on the floor. The more things between her and him, the harder it was to hit him. He dodged her blows just as well as she had done with his, so she changed her strategy.

She needed contact.

Vivian closed the space between them and placed a hand on his chest. She ignored the itch on her hands when she did so. From then on, no matter how he moved, he was unable to escape her punches and had to block with his hands to prevent his face from being battered. This was the first rule of hand-to-hand combat. If you could put a hand on your enemy, then do it. Once that contact was made, no matter how much they moved, you were able to adjust your blow even after you had thrown it. 

She had backed him against the wall now, between the beds, and was pummeling away at whatever opening she saw. Face, ribs, stomach and in a few moments he could no longer keep his hands up. He was still standing though, and that wasn't a risk Vivian was going to take. She couldn't kick him, but she could use her knees. She drove her right knee into his belly once, twice, thrice and he was forced onto his knees. The next one was to his damaged left side. He sat then, hands down, eyes unfocused. Vivian got down on one knee and put a hand on his chest, just in case. Once again the itch was there. She used the other to get the gun from under the bed.

"I was never as good as you were Vivian." He moaned.

"No, you weren't." She said.

"You are the best of us. And the worst of them. They won't stop until they've killed you."

Vivian ignored that.

"You've killed hundreds of people. Why?" She asked.

"Hundreds?" He laughed. "You should see the basement. Add a couple of zeroes to that. And that's how many you'll have to kill."

Vivian shot him in the head.

The inside of the building was still as silent as it had been before. Vivian raised her left hand closer to her mouth.

"Locate and open any electronic locks in proximity."

She then walked to the other end of the corridor, after which the watch beeped.