Forward But Never Forget/xoxo - Blog Posts
Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 33 - Blood Game
Snippet:
"Thanks for the tip," Vi says, rising to her feet. "I'd do the same for you, if I had any fucks left to give."
"Is that right?" Sevika's eyes glow, a pair of ashed-out cigarettes. "If I were you, sweetie, I'd save my fucks for a fight I can win."
"Funny. I seem to recall kicking your ass at least once before."
"Once. With the element of surprise." The glow hardens. "Not to mention an Uppside bitch playing back-up."
"You saying you'd beat me in a fair fight?"
"In a fair fight, Vi, you'd be a smear on the floor." Sevika's eyes cut her up and down. "I've had bigger and badder than little shit-kickers like you come to heel."
"That a fact?" Vi takes a step closer. She's a good head shorter, but doesn't miss the subtle flexing of Sevika's jaw. "'Cause I've got no problem taking a run at it."
They stand face-to-face. A breath away from collision.
The sun, blood-red, crests over the Aerie.
Vi swears she glimpses her sister's silhouette against the sky.
A crow readying for flight.
Sevika's right fist dry-gulches Vi—a nasty suckerpunch straight to her ribs. The blow would've laid Vi out flat. Except her reflexes have already kicked into gear. She rolls with the punch, torquing her hips at the last minute. Her uppercut, meeting Sevika's momentum, connects her knuckles solidly with the underside of Sevika's jaw.
Sevika's head snaps back. Blood and spittle spray. A split-second later, the shocked glaze fades from her eyes, and she lets loose a war-whoop that could rattle the joists of a steel-walled battleship. Then she's coming at Vi with a haymaker that collides straight into the gut. The blow drops Vi to her knees. Arctic spiders crawl up her sides; her insides are aflame.
Her stare connects with Sevika's. The older woman shrugs, and her mouth curls. A succinct two syllable taunt—
"Square up."
—And she kicks Vi hard enough to send her skidding across the courtyard.
The rest of the recruits, their game suspended, stare in stunned silence. Ran and Dustin, locked in a rowdy clinch, fall apart. Lock, sensing a real match in the offing, sensibly retreats from the fray. Others crowd in a loose circle. The betting begins in a hushed buzz of coins passing from hand to hand.
It's one thing to have the blackguard brass at each other's throats. It's another thing entirely to bear witness to a no-holds-barred showdown between Zaun's two most formidable combatants.
One: the daughter of the Wharfside Devil. The other: the whelp of the Hound of the Underground.
A grudge-match for the ages.
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