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« on: February 10, 2007, 12:28:32 PM »
Thios is a fight scene I pulled from a story I wrote based in the Battletech Gaming Universe. The Story is "Running from the Past," and it is about a Commando who has faked his own death and is living quietly on a colony world until Pirates attack the world. Here he is confronting trhe agent the pirates planted.
***
Jägare watched as Max dragged Andrea toward the shed. Short of the structure, he saw the pirate stop and stare at the destroyed lock. With a snarl, Max sling the rifle over his shoulder and yanked on the chain, sending Andrea stumbling forward. As she got close to him, Max released the chain and pulled out a long double-bladed knife from a belt sheath. He grabbed her by the chin and spun her around so that she was between him and the shed. Slowly, Max forced Andrea into the shed, the knife hovering close to her neck. They disappeared into the darkness.
The hunter stood and moved to the door. He opened it slowly, just enough to allow him to see the clearing. A handful of seconds later, Andrea came stumbling out of the shed, Max right behind her. He grabbed her by the hair and held up the knife. “All right!” He said in a cold, menacing voice. “I want to see everyone out in the open in ten seconds, or I will cut her throat!”
Jägare frowned. Andrea was too close to Max for a shot at this distance. He stepped out, his rifle pointing at the both of them. “Just me, Max,” he said in a loud voice.
Max glared at him. “Jägare,” he said in a low voice.
Jägare walked toward them, slowly. “I’m here, alone.”
“Why should I believe you?” Max demanded.
“Kill him, Ian!” Andrea yelled. “Kill the bastard!”
Max redoubled his grip on the woman's hair. “You’re the one who removed those ATV circuits,” he said in an even tempered voice.
“Of course. I figured out the Warhammer was a bluff.”
The hatchet-faced man shrugged. “It was a good plan. Keller didn’t like it much, but I convinced him.”
Jägare continued to walk forward. "You can't escape."
“Stop where you are and drop your weapons,” Max snarled. He held the blade near Andrea’s throat. “Rifle and pistol both.”
Jägare stopped. He held up his rifle and placed it on the ground in front of him, then unbuckled his gunbelt and let it fall to the ground. “Satisfied?”
“Take ten steps toward us,” Max ordered, his blade never wavering. “And keep your hands up.”
The hunter took ten measured paces toward Max and Andrea, his hands held out and away from his body. He stopped about five meters from the pair. “The Brotherhood is finished, Max,” he said. “We’ve captured both dropships, and most of the gang is dead or captured.”
A flicker of irritation crossed Max’s face, but it didn’t stay long. “The citizens here were more prepared then we thought.”
“Not really,” Jägare said, switching to Mandarin. “It's just the people here take a real dislike to pirates.”
The hatchet-face man's eyes narrowed. “A shrewd guess,” he replied in the same language.
“We found the warrant for you issued by the Office of Special Prosecution, Prefect of Sian, Maximilian Shanav.”
“I am impressed. You have been busy.”
“I also know who Jiang-jun Cho Su really is. Death Commandos don’t like it when one of their own desert.”
Max snorted. “And how would you know anything about –“
Andrea snarled a curse as she stepped back and slammed her elbow into Shanav’s gut. And the pirate's eyes widen in pain, she grabbed his knife hand with both of hers and bit his wrist. He snarled a curse of his own and yanked her back. Before he could do anything else, Jägare plowed into both of them, sending all three of them to the ground, Max on the bottom, then Andrea, and finally Jägare on top. Jägare’s hat went flying off into the snow.
Jägare shoved Andrea off Max and she quickly rolled away, finally free as Jägare landed on top of Max. The slaver slashed at her with his knife, but she was beyond his reach. Before he could slash at Jägare, the hunter grabbed the knife hand with his left and punched Max between the eyes with his right. With a snarl, the pirate slammed a knee into Jägare ‘s ribs. Pain exploded along the ribs, the same area where he’d been slashed during the dropship fight. In retaliation, he hit Max between the eyes yet again.
Twice more, the knee struck the ribs, and each time, the pain got worse. Jägare third punch was met with Max’s forehead as he raised his head and tucked his chin into his chest. A left cross connected with Jägare’s chin with enough force to daze him. He rolled off Max, and lurched to his feet, his right hand drawing out his own knife from it’s belt sheath.
Max was already on his feet, a bit bloody, but his eyes shone with menace and his knife was held in a low guard. “Not bad,” he said in Mandarin. “But I was trained by the very best in the Capellan Confederation.”
“So you say,” Jägare replied with a small smile.
Max attacked with several short slashes, moving with speed and power. Jägare blocked two slashes, avoided the third and absorbed the last one on his heavy winter coat. He ducked an elbow and kicked out at Max’s knee, which the pirate managed to avoid. Jägare spun to his left and snapped out a spinning hook kick, the heel of his boot barely grazing the pirate's chin. Shanav staggered, but recovered quickly.
The hunter snapped thrust his own knife toward Shanav’s chest, making the pirate swing his own knife down to block the attack, then hit him with an overhand left that snapped Max’s head to the right. Jägare stepped forward, ducked a spinning slash that neck high, and kicked at his opponent's groin. The slaver managed to twist away, his thigh absorbing the kick, the countered with an open palm strike that smashed into Jägare’s chest. The winter coat and layers of thick clothes dispersed the power of the strike, but it still forced Jägare to back up several steps to regain his balance.
Shanav charged in, his knife aimed at the hunter’s face. Jägare spun to his right, slapping his opponent's knife-welding arm with his left hand. He continued to spin, intent on driving the pommel of his knife into Max’s temple, but the hatchet-face man ducked and hit Jägare with a shoulder in the stomach that sent the hunter staggering. Before Jägare could recover, Max was on the attack again, hacking at Jägare with a flurry of slashes. More cuts appeared in Jägare‘s winter coat before Max was forced to leap back to avoid Jägare’s thrusting counterattack.
They circled each other, knives held close to the body. Jägare’s ribs burned, but he ignored it. Small puffs of down were slowly being expelled through the gashes in his coat. Sweat beaded on his forehead before it cooled off in the chill air. “Give it up, Shanav,” he said in English. “There’s no way you can get off planet now.”
“I’ve got an entire planet to hide on,” the slaver replied.
“You think the Hunters will leave you alone?”
“If I kill enough of them, they will. And I’m going to start with you.” He moved in again, the steel of his knife shimmering in the morning light. Jägare’s coat absorbed several more slashes, but he didn’t know how much more it could take. A kick meant to break Jägare’s kneecap smashed painfully into the lower part of his thigh, and only sheer will kept him from falling. Max’s follow-up elbow was knocked aside by Jägare, who then stepped in, and used a shoulder throw to try and drive Shanav into the ground. The pirate managed to break his fall for the most part, and slashed several times at Jägare’s legs to keep him away long enough to roll into a crouch.
Max glanced over at Andrea, who was kneeling several meters away, trying to remove the collar from around her neck. He smiled at Jägare, then uncoiled himself and darted toward Andrea. Jägare moved to cut him off, but only after a couple of strides, Shanav suddenly darted at him, his knife slashing through Jägare’s coat, shirt and into his skin. In reply, Jägare managed to snap a kick into Max’s solar plexus, the force just enough to make the slaver gasp in surprise, but the follow-up knee to the face was prevented by the pirate's quick reflexes. However, Max wasn’t quite fast enough to completely avoid Jägare’s slash that left a long trail of blood along the right side of his face.
Each man pulled back, assessing his opponent. Fire burned from the top of Jägare’s left hip to the right breast, and the hunter could feel wetness seep into his shirt. His breathing was ragged, every move sending new jolts of pain through his abused thigh and ribs. Tiredness was beginning to set in, the events of the last day working hard to try and take him under. He fought off the urge to fall down, and just smiled at his enemy.
Shanav looked more relaxed, though the slash on his face bled profusely. “It appears that I underestimated you,” he said in English.
“Not my fault,” Jägare’s replied.
“Ready to tell me where those ATV circuits are?”
“No.”
“I suppose I could skin you alive, but I don’t have the time.”
“You’ve run out of time. There’s hunters in the woods, waiting for a clear shot at you, and Marshal Takezaki is on his way with some militia. Even if you beat me, you can’t escape.”
Max shrugged. “That’s what they said when I tried to shoot Hyung-Tsei, but I managed to get away then. If I can avoid the clutches of the Death Commandos, why not a handful of mountain men and half trained soldiers?”
“Why did you try and kill the commander of the Death Commandos?” Jägare asked.
The slaver shook his head. “Can’t tell you. My master wouldn’t like it.”
“Your master?”
“He showed me the way.” Max darted forward, his knife angling for Jägare’s face. The hunter raised an arm to block, but the pirate shot a powerful sidekick into Jägare’s exposed and injured ribs. He bit off a scream and back handed Max across the face as the slaver closed in. But Max swept his knife in an arc aiming to slash Jägare’s throat.
Just as he did, the crack of a pistol going off as the same instance as a blossom of crimson appeared on Max’s right shoulder. The pirate spun to the right, a flat black blade appearing in his left hand as if by magic. He snapped threw the blade, his target Andrea, who was holding Jägare’s pistol in both hands and trying to line up another shot. The sharp edged missile bit deep into the woman's left thigh and she grunted in surprise and pain. A second missile followed the first, this one hitting Andrea in the right shoulder. She collapsed, blood flowing from her wounds.
“Stay out of this, Andrea,” Max said coldly. “Or the next one I throw will kill you.”
Jägare stepped in and slashed at the slaver. Max blocked the first one, dodged the second, and slashed at the Jägare’s knife hand. The leather of Jägare’s glove parted easily, and explosion of agony from the back of his hand was intense. The sudden pain made his hand open, letting his knife to fall to the ground. Max hit him with a left hook to his already damaged ribs, then a straight right to the point of his chin.
Jägare felt the corners of his mind black out as he fought to stay conscious. He experienced the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and breathing became a problem. His eyes were unfocused and he felt the blood pound in his ears. He felt drained, wanting nothing more then to lie down and sleep.
“A valiant attempt,” Max said. “But you couldn’t have beaten me. Master Sun told me once I was the fourth best fighter he had ever trained, and the other three are dead.”
The name Master Sun reached deep into Jägare’s memories. The Death Commando’s melee weapon and unarmed combat instructor. Seventy years old and still could move with the swiftness and lethality of a cobra. Jägare had learn a lot from the old man, including a few things not normally taught. He just needed a few seconds to regain his senses. “Did. . .did you kill them too?” he gasped, trying to sound more hurt than he was.
Max shook his head. “One's retired, one died during the raid on Kathil back in ‘29, and the last one was lost on a mission in the St. Ives Compact several years back. I had no need to kill them.” he stepped forward. “Time to die.”
The thrust was underhanded, and aimed for his solar plexus. With a burst of energy, Jägare slid to his left and hit Max in the face with the hardest palm strike he could muster. The slaver’s nose deformed under the blow, and for a heartbeat, Max’s brain was in shock.
Jägare’s hands grabbed the pirate’s extended arm. His right hand seized the elbow, his thumb digging into the pressure point in the inside of the joint, while his left hand gripped Max’s knife hand and twisted. Before the pirate knew what had happened, Jägare drove Max’s hand, still holding the knife, back into the slaver’s body. A stunned look came across Max’s face as the knife went deep into his own body.
“By the way,” Jägare hissed into Max’s ear in Mandarin. “Master Sun also taught me. I’m the one that went missing from that mission into the Compact five years ago. Lost at sea during the insertion, or so they think.” A look of comprehension crossed Max’s face, just before the high pitch crack of a rifle was heard. Something slammed into the mortally wounded pirate’s back and he slumped to the ground, his eyes open and unseeing.
Jägare stumbled away, taking several steps before he fell down. The cold wet snow felt soothing on his face, but he managed to push himself onto his back so he could breathe the cold air. He heard shouts and the sounds of footsteps in the snow, but all he saw was a clear blue sky with a few high clouds. He tried to raise his head, but the effort was too much. With a groan, he waited.
***
I thought it easier to show you the way I wrote the scene instead of trying to describe it. A mix of detail and general descrpition. I shoukld mention that the larger a battle is, the less detail there's going to be. After all, if the scene involves a major battle, like the WWII's Battle of the Buldge, the grunt on the ground isn't going to know what happened two miles away.
Craig
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I mean, you know how expensive torches and pitchforks are these days?? 
