Enemies(80)

“And now a real challenge arrives,” Heimdall said quietly. The frenzy of his motions only a moment earlier had subsided. He was peaceful, calm now, an island of tranquility in the midst of chaos. “You are a warrior.”

“You too,” I said. “Your friends? Not so much. I guess a couple thousand years of being the kings and queens of the world made them soft.” I looked him up and down; he rippled with muscle, and not in the normal way a meta did, just by sheer genetics. He was toned in a way few were. He worked on it. His reactions showed he’d never lost his edge. This was a man that time hadn’t made soft and flabby. He was a sharpened blade, just looking for a place to strike. “They don’t know how much work goes into being ready to fight,” I said, and he nodded subtly. “But you and I do.”

“In my time,” Heimdall said, and his voice was deep, resonant, “I have been beaten only twice.”

“Really?” I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice. “I’ve been beaten a lot. So I guess if we’re going by fighting records, you’ve got the advantage.”

He smiled. “I always do.”

I smiled back. “Of course you do.” I paused. “How do I beat this man to death?”

Heimdall’s smile faded. “What?”

Touch him every chance you get, brief little touches, only a second each time, Wolfe said. He’ll hit you but try and dodge it. If you can’t, take the hit and trade contact time for it. Keep him busy until your power finally starts to drain him. Then eat him up like—

“That’ll do,” I said and extended a hand to Heimdall. “Well? You ready to see who’s better?”

He never lost his calm. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

“Awww,” I said, feigning embarrassment, “it’s so sweet that you know I’m going to beat your ass. But you’re willing to fight anyway! That’s courage.” I gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. “You are a special star!”

His nostrils flared. “I have been the strongest warrior on earth for thousands of years.”

“Really?” I gave him a pitying look. “Then why haven’t you gone looking for a fight with Sovereign?”

His eyes widened and he was moving without warning, coming at me in a bare-fisted attack. I turned aside his first blow, slapping his wrist to the left. When his next one came, I grabbed it, pulling him forward and using his momentum against him. He snapped it away before I got a chance to hit him, but neither did he manage to counterstrike, so I considered it a fair trade.

One …

He came at me again, follow up punches turned aside, and I clasped his arm this time and pulled him into a punch of my own. I didn’t hold back; it was a strong hit, and it stunned him enough that I got another in before he slipped my grasp and hit me with a backhand that caused my head to rattle a little.

Two, three, four …

I kicked him in the leg. I had been aiming for the chest but had to adjust due to the speed at which he came at me. It hobbled him and he stumbled. I pressed the attack by punching him in the head again then the gut. I grabbed his wrist and tried to spin him around in a pirouette like a dancer. It was a clumsy move on my part, but it brought me unfettered access to the side of his head and I pounded him in the skull three times before he landed a hard elbow to my stomach that made me take a few steps back.

Five …

We circled each other warily, his head bleeding from minor cuts where I’d struck him. I felt a pain in my belly from the last hit, and one of my cheeks stung. So far I was winning, but I knew that the moment I underestimated him or tried too hard to press my touch, it’d turn. He was a canny bastard, that much was obvious, and if I didn’t play it cool, he was going to realize what I was up to sooner rather than later.

I came at him again with full fury, blocking one of his punches in a way that hurt both of us, probably equally. Neither of us let it show, though, and we traded a punch each. Mine hit him in the gut, his hit me in the side of the head, a glancing blow that still caused a brief flash in my vision. His stomach was like iron, and while we were tangled up close, he tried to grab me. I let him, and he pulled me closer for a headbutt, which I allowed. I angled my head in such a way that it landed skull to skull. You don’t run into too many people that know how to really execute a headbutt, or how much it effing hurts when you do it wrong. I knew, and I knew it was going to cost me some serious pain, but I tangled my hand up with him and waited for the hit, knowing that if I could hold onto him after the impact it would easily buy me ten seconds—and probably reveal my plan.