by L. M. Vila
Seika pushed away from a blocked kick and effortlessly jumped over the island in the center of the room. The drug was certainly working beyond any facet of her imagination. She placed her back to the wall and barely had a second to duck Michael’s incoming left hook. His fist passed overhead, shattering the wooden cabinet above. Shavings of debris rained down on their bodies. The only thing Seika could think of at that moment was the fact that her head once occupied that space and could have shared a similar fate.
Dashing backwards after that attack, Seika found her movement stopped once again by another wall in this U-shaped room. Michael didn’t even take a step forward. In response, he spun his body and rocketed a standing side kick aimed at her awaiting skull. Seika leaped onto the island as she heard the destruction commence from behind. His kick caused equal, if not more damage to the furniture in the room that the punch before it.
Her eyes caught the splintering wood coating the air like confetti as she began her forward roll across the table. They also spotted Michael’s fist crashing down upon her. Seika’s body reacted and slid to the side upon completion of her roll. A crater opened where her body used to be. Michael dug his fist into this wooden structure and immediately snapped it back out without flinching. The table’s guts immediately flowed of the hole mimicking a broken fire hydrant.
All of his attacks cycled in unison. Plus his perceived strength was incredible to boot. The rumors did not do this man justice. Nor did his previous battles today. He nearly tore apart this entire lab with only three attacks. Missing every one didn’t even dissuade him. His resolve was uncanny.
Seika landed on her feet and was able to put up her guard before Michael swept in for another torrent of assaults. With his knuckles tightened, Seika prepared to duck and toss in a counter blow to throw him off guard. Suddenly, her stomach exploded, rattling her intestines into places they never ventured before. Air struggled its way through her lungs as if the passages were sealed shut. Michael faked his punch and landed a solid knee strike into her midsection.
Juices started flowing up giving Seika the signal to puke. She didn’t even have the satisfaction of time on her side to allow her to do something so vile and embarrassing. Using the same leg, Michael blasted Seika’s exposed chin with a front snap kick. She shrieked, just as he knew she would, and paced backwards towards the glass doors.
Her head spun madly. It felt like a car speeding beyond its capacity came crashing into her face. The world blurred before her. There weren’t enough nerves in her body to calculate all the ensuing agony. Seika took a couple of steps back, praying for every second that she didn’t have to deal with the threat of his attacks.
Michael dashed in. He cocked back his fist and prepared to turn this woman’s jaw into calcium powder. The punched traveled attempting to break the sound barrier. She glanced up at him. The expression on her face almost begged him to stop.
It connected beautifully. Seika’s body was sadistically ripped from the ground. She crashed through the glass doors before they even had a chance to open, shattering them in the process of her furious velocity. Pieces of the former structure glistened against the luminous fluorescent lights before they sprinkled on the ground.
Gravity blasted back at Seika’s falling body causing new levels of suffering. She bounced along the ground before being forcibly stopped by the closed steel elevator doors. Her movements remained still. It appeared someone had extinguished her life in one quick swoop.
Michael surveyed the damage caused by their battle and briefly reminisced. Her brother put up much more of a fight than she did which was actually surprising given her passionate grudge. Now that she was out of the picture, it was time for the main event. He was so engrossed with that thought he didn’t even notice her body beginning to twitch.
People can’t disappear into thin air. Isabella was just good at hiding. Meryl kept reminding herself of the latter rather than accept the former. The first thing she did was check under the trailer for any signs of her possible movement. When she didn’t find any, caution took precedence over instincts.
Meryl proceeded slowly between the trailers. Architecture was on her side. The only way out of this hospital now was through her. Their gunfight should have raised awareness to the security officers inside. Maybe if she stalled long enough, their added presence would further corner Isabella, ending this cat and mouse game.
A rabid strike cracked Meryl right in the knee cap sending her to the ground. It seemed to come from out of nowhere, much like where the attacker disappeared to. Isabella pulled herself down from within the underbelly of the trailer and kicked the weapon out of her opponent’s hand.
The pain of having your pistol ripped from your grip was intense but paled in comparison to losing your only advantage. This was a tight spot for Meryl. Judging by her opponent’s speed and agility, she was outclassed. Continuing down this path could be detriment to her health.
Stripped of her medical gown, Isabella was free to move about as she wishes. Even more so, actually. Fighting in her underwear gave an enlightened sense of liberty. There wasn’t any time to pace this battle. Isabella ran full speed ahead and threw a slew of punches.
Sadly, Meryl’s résumé did not include martial arts. Basic hand to hand combat, disabling maneuvers, and even a month’s worth of jui jitsu classes couldn’t match what she was up against. Meryl was able to dodge a few blows, even block an attack every once and a while but at this pace, her fate was inevitable.
Isabella’s leg caught Meryl cleanly in the ribcage. It was by far the most painful kick she’s ever experienced, nearly enough to take the fight right out of her. The following punch to her open jaw sealed the deal. Meryl’s head knocked right into the steel trailer dropping her straight to one knee. Seeing that her opponent clearly wasn’t a match, Isabella took time to measure the opportunity to throw the knockout blow. This contest was nearing its end and not a moment sooner. The window to escape was closing rapidly.
Coughs and groans were the only sounds coming from the FBI agent’s throat. Defeat was not an option, especially here. Looking up at Isabella was like watching a starving wolf about to pounce its prey. She was about to bested by a woman wearing nothing more than a bra and a pair of panties.
That revelation struck Meryl in an instant. Even without a gun it doesn’t mean she is without a weapon. Isabella swopped in with a sweeping roundhouse strike. Avoiding it was tough but after performing a backwards roll, Meryl sprung to her feet and began taking off her jacket. She spun the sleeves over her hands and awaiting Isabella’s next move.
Not to be dissuaded with pathetic acrobatics, the sultry spy continued her assault. She faked with a kick and watched Meryl back up. A cowardly move or an intelligent one, it didn't matter. Isabella used that to get into range and throw a midlevel uppercut that would surely steal the breaths right out of her adversary’s body.
An opening appeared. Meryl had to be quick and accurate. She threw her jacket at the oncoming punch and side stepped to avoid the blow. The coat wrapped around Isabella’s shoulder and wrenched her entire body backwards with on hefty pull.
Meryl amplified her leverage by stepping on the back of Isabella’s leg, dropping this skilled combatant to her knees and then swiftly on her back. The edge would soon be lost if Meryl didn’t act immediately. She raised her fist and drove it down towards her adversary’s prone skull. Knuckles impacted with bitter agony as the pavement welcomed their landing.
A knee caught Meryl flush in the back and drove her forward. The ground was becoming so familiar to her in this battle it could almost be considered a bedfellow. Meryl picked herself up without hindrance and caught sight of a deadly realization that would cost her life if she didn’t take action immediately.
Isabella couldn’t believe she was bested this easily. Especially by such an unorthodox method of combat. Luck had finally given her its blessing. Meryl’s pistol was only a few short feet away. She dashed towards it using the space gained during their st
ruggle wisely. It was inches away from her grasp before the force of a train collided with her back.
The FBI agent tackled Isabella and planted to woman straight into the ground. This wasn’t the most elegant method available but desperation didn’t allow such luxuries. With both of them on the ground this would be a stalemate until one of them were in reach of the weapon that could end this contest outright. Meryl knew she couldn’t waste energy wrestling Isabella for control of the weapon so she opted for a practical method. Even Isabella’s ground game was highly polished. She immediately tossed Meryl to her back and reached for the weapon. All too easy.
Instead of responding in kind, Meryl used this opportunity to take hold of Isabella’s planted arm and wrenching it from her control. She wrapped her legs across Isabella’s unguarded appendage and flung her entire body back against earth. Nothing beat the arm bar when it came to disabling a hostile opponent.
Meryl pulled with everything she had. Hearing Isabella cry was like a pleasing melody that she could never get tired of. Veins on her head grew larger with the added stress. Her entire body was turning red with the added pressure. Isabella’s arm was being bent in a direction not known to any human on this planet. No one said it was going to be easy.
One arm down did not take her opponent out of the fight. Being pinned in this position would be difficult to counter but Isabella had one distinct advantage. She was the closest to the pistol and her fingers were no more than an inch from it. Adrenaline surged through Meryl’s body. Death may very well be making its presence known to her at that very moment. The fight for survival could not get any more intense than this. She screamed loudly, mustering up every facet of strength in her being and pulled with the might of her added desperation. Isabella tapped the handle of the gun and slowly dragged it toward her grip. Their destinies collided at this very moment. It became known to them both with a loud pop.
Banshee’s roars would be in awe of Isabella. Her shriek lit up the late night of Los Angeles and nearly destroyed Meryl’s ear drums. The reaction as well warranted. Experiencing the pain of having your elbow bend in the opposite direction isn’t one many have the privilege of having in a lifetime.
Without hesitation, Meryl rolled over Isabella’s body and slammed her back against the one good arm Isabella had left. The weapon was back in her grasp. She swung it quickly and jammed it into the gaping hole of torment that was producing all of these horrible sounds.
Meryl's finger grazed the trigger. Pulling it would be easy, and she wanted to do it oh so badly. Watching Isabella choke on the barrel of this gun wasn’t enough. A man died today because of her actions. Someone with a family. They all trusted Isabella. Even Meryl warmed up to her, hoping to make another good friend today. But neither of their destinies laid down that path. Meryl wondered if this is where Isabella’s would end.
She wouldn’t give into her emotions that easily. Justice would be served and she would see to it that Isabella would live through it all.
The security team approached them on the loading dock. Seeing an FBI agent with her gun inside a half naked woman’s throat was truly a sight not once soon forgotten. Erotic thoughts aside, they quickly surrounded her with their weapons drawn.
“Is everything ok here ma’am?” One of them asked.
Meryl nodded and slowly took her gun out of Isabella’s mouth but kept the barrel pointed towards it. She reminded Isabella how easily her life could have been taken. Smashing the butt of the pistol across her jaw proved how simply Meryl could take her consciousness. Keeping her awake was too big of a risk. Isabella was much more manageable in this form.
Relief was finally attained. Meryl stood up and tried to slow her breaths down. It appeared that the adrenaline had not fully run its course. Her hands were shaking. This experience would play out in her mind for far too long. As security picked up the comatose body of Isabella, Meryl reached for her phone.
With all that had occurred in the last half hour, she completely lost track of what was going on elsewhere. Meryl then realized she no longer had Michael’s new cell phone number so calling him was out of the question. Might as well call the police and get this area contained before taking the next step. She wasn’t going to enjoy explaining what happened but it was her job. And what a hell of a first day it was.
Seika pushing herself off the ground after the thrashing Michael gave her was surprising to witness. He was nearing the elevator doors when her movements became noticeable. She twitched first and then moments later, started picking her body up. Given his strength, abilities, and calculation of strikes, she should have been knocked out. Instead, it appears he may have overestimated himself and severely underestimated his opponent.
He was a beast. Seika could admit that now. If she was slightly impressed with him before it was beginning to grow towards admiration now. Standing up to his onslaught would have been impossible for her earlier today. That drug worked a miracle today. The pain was lingering but subsiding. She dusted the bits of broken glass off her clothes. From the looks of his stern yet confused brow, intimidation was now in Seika’s corner.
Power, unbelievable power was exploding from every cell in her body. Seika could hardly contain it all. She walked forward slowly while kicking debris away from her path. Memories of his strikes lingered. Her stomach could have been ruptured and jaw shattered. The fight would have been over. Having this renewed opportunity for revenge piqued her interest on so many levels. Not only would she be able to defeat Michael Madison, she could watch him squirm.
Seika charged and unleashed a stream of punches and kicks. To Michael’s shock, he was having difficulty combating them all. She was nothing like the Russian from earlier. Seika had skills and apparently now she had equaling speed and strength. This was completely unlike their battle earlier. Definitely strange, but not without reason.
Breaking through his defenses seemed possible now. Even as he blocked, Seika felt her attacks putting stress on his arms and legs. He wasn’t able to keep up his firm, iron-like guard. Before, it was like Seika was fighting a chunk of steel. Now she faced wet bamboo. Still tough but it gave a little with each attack.
A high spinning back roundhouse kick flew over Michael’s head but not before grazing his skin. Such a challenge hasn’t presented itself. He was much out of practice. Seika didn’t attack wildly. Every move had a purpose. She pushed Michael’s guard backwards. The table closing in gave him little place to move.
Another measured punch came whirling in. Michael couldn’t keep up this kind of effort. Finding an opening was critical. He pushed against Seika’s fist with his forearm, knocking her balance a bit. Not as much as he believed he was capable of, but enough to establish a second or two to breathe.
Wood screamed in defiance. A steady and dire pounding commenced. It was enough to gain Michael’s attention. He turned his head slightly to the direction of the sound. The closet doors rattled back and forth. Indiscernible shouts and pleas came from within. Someone was trapped inside. A hostage? Another enemy? Michael couldn’t ascertain their identity from here but his mind told him he dwindled too long. Turning his eyes back to his opponent revealed his mistake.
Michael was dropped to one knee. A monumental axe kick delivered by Seika nearly crippled the seasoned FBI agent. He swore the language of pain through his teeth. It was a clean hit on his right leg, square against the back of his knee. She was clearly skilled. Seika didn’t hesitate and followed up her attack with a straight left cross.
Her fist vanished in Michael’s palm. He blocked the attack with his bare hand. Michael’s fingers dung into Seika’s knuckles, breakage would soon commence. In desperation, she through another punch to rattle that steel trap of his.
The attack stopped inches from his pain expressed face. Michael had caught the punch at the wrist while on his knee, her other hand still firmly grasped. He squeezed tightly, constricting the skin in an attempt to snap her bones like toothpicks.
A winding kicked slapped his ribs. Se
ika had attempted to break his grip on both of her arms. What she didn’t expect was for Michael to absorb the blow and trap her foot with his elbow. Pressure ensued. Michael tried to bore a hole with his arm while keeping a firm grip on Seika’s appendages. He may have been down, but Seika was trapped. She couldn’t launch an offensive much like her opponent. They were both ensnared in the other’s web.
Seika’s mind was moving too rapidly to contain. The drug had taken more of an effect than she had initially experienced. Her instincts had grown to a level beyond human comprehension. She bent her free leg slightly and rocketed into the air, extending it forward and blasting Michael’s jaw, delivering pure anguish.
New memories were being registered. Michael had never been on the receiving end of a summersault kick. The irony became painful. His body was torn from grip of gravity and lifted into the air. The table caught his fall and delivered a devastating crash in response. Michael rolled backwards off the edge and landed on the tough tile floor knees first. His lower back was reeling. Particularly near his tailbone. The weight was off. Maybe a bruise; something had happened but he didn’t have time to worry about the details. As long as he could stand then he could fight. Michael did just that. His eyes lifted over the horizon of the table and then he realized what was missing. His holster was lighter. One weapon short. It must have slid out during the impact. But the Desert Eagle found a new home. Seika nestled it in the most threatening way possible, with her finger on the trigger.
