"Are you with me, Kyra?" I whisper.
It was right around that time I realized I had been watching what was ahead of me a little too intently... Not paying attention to my surroundings.
The steel on my neck was a pretty good indicator as well.
"I'm right behind you, since you asked... Whoever the hell you are... " Came the whisper. "Now, I'm thinking that I'll be taking that steel and those goggles, cause they sure as hell don't belong to you."
Warm breath, practically in my ear. Worst spot for me to make a move. I can feel the razored edge of the steel. I know that voice, but, I don't... I look at the form now fleecing the mewing thug, examining the sword, no, a cutlass, and then discarding it. Even from here, I can tell it's a crap blade.
So, if she's in front of me, why the hell do I think she's behind me.
Maybe I have lost my mind.
"Oh, I don't know... I'm pretty sure they're mine, and they're going to stay mine... Besides..."
I lunge forward, clearing the steel from my neck... Not quite quick enough, I feel it shave the hairs. Damn, she's fast. Spinning around, I lash out as soon as I see the glint of the steel.
She leans back, trying to bring the blade back across my forearm as I'm trying to knock it out of her hand. The black robes she was wearing didn't help matters, as the shroud-like material kept moving back and forth, helping to mask any tells as to where she was going to move next.
She's even dressed the same... What the hell is going on here?
I feel the sensation of my skin parting underneath the blade, and I curse, never stopping my movement. Despite the fact that I saw Kyra fighting across the way, and I know it was her from the way she moved, I can't deny that the girl in front of me, doing a damn fine job in trying to kill me, is Kyra, even if it doesn't look a damn thing like her.
"You do not know who you are fucking with!" I snarl as I weave back again, plucking the heavy dagger from my belt.
It's still half a gram heavy on the backside.
I bring the steel up, shifting the arc slightly, since, even though I... Well, I can't prove that I'm fighting her, I still, somehow, know its her...
Steel clashes on steel. I spin the blade and try to disarm her.
Damn, where the hell did she learn that? Not going to try that again... But, let's see...
I never take my eyes off of her as her blade sails into the darkness.
She may be good. Hell, she is good. But this is still my game.
The little minx tries for a nerve strike. I return the favor. She misses. I don't.
Not having the ability to move her arm should...
Fuck... That hurt...
"You're going to pay in blood for those goggles!" she snarled, a fresh piece of steel in her hand. Damn that outfit... Can't see what all she's got.
Okay, this is going to end badly, for her, I think, if I don't end it here soon. Problem is, she's trying to ghost me, and I don't want to return the favor. So, if this IS Kyra, and I'm thinking it is, how the hell do I end this without winning her favorite game.
I start to drop back. Can't pull a fade, she's too close and can smell the blood on me.
"Jack," I whisper, hoping she'll hear me, whether she's listening or not. "I told you I'd come back, didn't I?"
She didn't drop her guard, good girl, but at least she stopped trying to kill me. A look of confusion passed over her face. "You're not Riddick."
"The hell I ain't," I respond, then try to remember something that Kyra, that Jack, would remember of me. "You still want eyes like this?" I reach up and push the goggles back, trying not to squint from all the light.
She swallows. "What's my favorite game?"
Before I can answer, I hear the response, from the side of both of us.
"Who's the better killer..."