the beginning (of the middle)
Swift. Stab. Parry.
What was that move my fencing master always did? She was trying to remember her childhood lessons, but honestly, she was fighting on instinct as she stabbed her opponent.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
“You sound like a villain in bad spy movie.”
“‘ell I don’t like silences.”
He moved like water, like the air was just making way for him and he glided around her. WHile she kept to her traditional sword technique, he stabbed without reason, making it hard to keep her eye on him. Bathed in black clothes, with metal spikes placed haphazardly, his outfit almost looked homemade, even though she knew his employer was very very rich.
Internally, she ran the numbers in her head to see how likely it was that the key was on him, but she didn’t think he had it. He was just an obstacle on her way to the end of her mission, and she needed to finish up fast before-
And now her side was hurting. Pain like she’d never experienced before was seeping in, running through her into the depths of her bones. Sudden coldness was over taking her body as she stumbled backwards and landed hard, clutching at her side. As she looked at her hand, bright red with blood, she cursed. Of course, this was her downfall, taking her mind off the fight, just like her mentor said it would be. It was getting hard to breathe, and while the mask and voice changer she wore protected her identity, she knew she wanted to be free in her last moments. She reached up and took them off.
She heard a sharp intake of breath from her opponent, who was tall and lanky, like someone she once knew. He ripped off his mask and voice modifier, revealing the face of someone she thought she lost a long time ago.
No. It can’t be.
Her vision was blurry, going to black, and as he said her name, she only had one word on her lips.
“Hobie.”