What Lurks in the Dark

The movement only invited frustrated growls from Strings. She was losing her footing just by trying to catch him unguarded and avoiding his attacks, and she knew she had been cut more than she could land hits on him. But she refused to accept it was a losing battle. She could probably make do with a change of strategy.

"You think you're pretty good at this, don't you, boy?" she spoke in the middle of a flurry of attacks. Her voice was low and controlled, unlike her scream from earlier in their fight. "I haven't had this sort of fun in decades, you know!" Her breathy chuckle followed her as she tried to push him back, striking at him with both her knives together. She followed it with another swing of one, followed by the other in continuous arcs. She wasn't about to give up just yet.

Strings' grin fell as his lack of response dawned on her. He was putting all his focus into their fight then take the bait and that was getting on her nerves. Well, she was never one to give up easily anyway.

"You don't fancy having a little chat while fighting, boy?" she taunted, narrowly missing a jab or two. Of course, she wouldn't admit to having felt the cold steel graze her already exposed skin. She could handle this, she told herself.

But ah, Strings also wouldn't admit that his attack put her at a disadvantage. Compared to her own blades, she needed the close range to hit him, but with the distance he was making, it was hard to land blows. Even when she had the advantage of having weapons on both hands, he could catch most, if not all of her attacks. What was worse was that she always had to step back just a little every time she needed to dodge his attacks. She couldn't keep blocking, after all.

"Come on, kid, just humor me a little here. Cat got your tongue?" she jested, though the growl of frustration wouldn't go unnoticed.

The hairs at the back of Strings' neck bristled, frustrated at her prey's continued silence. She refused to back down and attempted attacks as soon he tried attacking her but their exchange put them at a standstill as they merely caught each other's blades. His attacks limited her own movements to mostly defense--having the need to close their distance when she attacked left her open. (Strings wouldn't admit her attacks were faltering. She had made more steps back than forward).

Her thoughts were scattered: trying to think of a new strategy- Play dirty? Might as well if he could simply vanish out of sight; wondering where his weak spot is right now- He's closely guarding his midsection, isn't he?; and somehow managing to catch movements from the shadows- That was a rat just now!. It didn't prepare her for her enemy to suddenly vanish.

He was found a distance further than Strings could have preferred That coward!. Without second thought, she charged up at him, only to topple backward into the ground with his sudden reappearance in front of her. She had little time to catch his blade with her knives but she had enough to avoid getting herself sliced in half.

She rolled to the side, safe enough where she could at least kneel to inspect the damage. The blade cut through her forearms when she had raised it instinctively. Her wound wasn't deep just by the feeling of it, but the blood that seeped through her sleeves wasn't very comforting.

Whatever was running though her head now couldn't be read from her face.

Despite the blood that was already on her, she ran forward to her enemy, blindly swinging her knives at him, as her body moved fluidly with her.

By now Strings was merely running on adrenaline, unconsciously blinding her from the stinging pain as her sweat mixed with her blood, passing through open wounds. Her mind was clouded by the growing obsession of bringing her opponent down, but it was also slowly blurring--the bloodloss was starting to catch up to her.

She continued to fight, not allowing her to revel in her small victories when she successfully landed blows every now and then. She couldn't afford to celebrate at this rate. Her more wounded arm began to feel weak and she could tell her grip was beginning to loosen.

Her breathing was becoming ragged and her vision blurred that she almost didn't register her enemy stepping to the side. At the last moment, she managed to pullher blade to her defense--but her arm had fallen weak and she dropped the knife from the heavy blow. The second nearly hit but she fell a step backwards just enough to avoid getting sliced in two--yet it didn't save her from getting another deep cut on her upper arm. Her right arm was becoming numb from all the wounds she'd gotten on it, she thought.

It was starting to sink in that she was fighting a losing battle. Strings couldn't tell if she was had blacked out for a moment or he had transported again when he reappeared at her side. She tried to jump away but all she could manage was a step to her side before losing her footing and falling to the ground. Has the alley been that dark when she got there or was her vision fading?

Everything suddenly felt distant to Strings; the ground below her, voices sounded like they were echoes from elsewhere. She didn't notice the shadow that loomed above her while she stared at nothing. She couldn't feel her body. She didn't feel the cool metal hovering near he skin at her throat either. She couldn't feel being pulled to her feet, nor could she feel being tied up. Was she even awake? She couldn't say.

She remembered lights flashing from her peripheral view, more voices speaking from afar but none were clear to say they were memories. It was probably a dream, she thought to herself before her vision completely blacked out to even realize what happened after. These were things that she would worry about when she was awake.

Strings didn't stay conscious enough to see her prey escape her sights.