False Strife

Remarkably, the teal woman somersaulted into the lift. And Kára and the woman unceremoniously began to brawl. Feeling threatened and seemingly ambushed, Kára swung first, though she threw her blows just out of reach. Failing, she went for the gun. 

Kára wore her tattooed hand on her holster initially, ready for the instance when she would have to thwart any assault from Saan Qorm’s assassins, but she didn’t get the chance to use it.

As soon as she’d drawn the weapon, it was swatted out of her hand. Simultaneously, a fist struck her in the jaw and felled Kára. Though it felt far more like a cudgel than a set of knuckles.

Back to the wall and in the cramped confines, the Pantheran retaliated. Punting her attacker in the crotch. It was enough to make her attacker double over. And when she did, Kára kicked again, this time in the chin. Drawing blood, and knocking off her cowl.

Quickly, the woman with milky eyes grabbed the captain’s ankles, slid her over the elevator floor to bring her closer, and dropped her full weight onto Kára. Driving an elbow into her abdomen.

Kára winced and coughed as her assailant rolled off her body and prepared to deliver a barrage of punches. Some were misplaced, while others found their mark, and would surely leave a bruise. But using her attacker’s manoeuvre, she caught one of the jabs and yanked it out of its socket to reel her in in order to headbutt her. As there was nothing to cushion the blow when Hazana used her skull as a ram, the two groaned in pain. Both were probably concussed.

The women shuffled away from one another, and tried their best to stand and keep balance. After a moment, Kára bobbed and the teal woman weaved.

Like the wind, Kára flailed her fists and swung her boots; full of force, but lacking impact. Meanwhile, her attacker had taken a defensive position, blocking every thrust and every foot that came her way.

Finally, Kára flew at her in anger and tackled the teal-skinned woman against the wall of the steel box. Subsequently, she hit one of the buttons on the lift, and it began its ascent.

Once again on the floor, the women wriggled and grappled about like Swaver eels. Holding the other in their vice like grip, whilst striking or arresting any attack with whatever limb at their disposal.

Somehow, a pair of blue feet suddenly wrapped around Captain Hazana’s neck; Kára was caught in a leglock. Her breathing soon changed as less and less oxygen reached her brain.

However, Kára did not die. She realised as much when the hired killer didn’t immediately snap her neck. Something she expected to have happened by then, and with relative ease. Instead and perhaps impossibly, using muscles in her calves and feet the Pantheran couldn’t even imagine, her attacker stood whilst Hazana remained trapped. Furthermore, the Captain’s own gun was aimed at her face.

Endeavouring to get the words out, Kára just barely managed “What… are… you… waiting for?

The assassin grimaced and panted, her breast heaving noticeably, said “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot… Captain.”

Despite her continued struggle to breathe, Kára looked up at the victor bewildered, before she was released, and her weapon dropped in her lap.

Ultimately Kára coughed and spluttered as the elevator doors finally slid open, revealing the saloon. Empty, save one.

“Why…” said Kara breathlessly, “…were you trying to kill me?”

As the teal woman replaced her hijab she answered, “I believe we may have had a misunderstanding. Whatever you may think, whoever you think may desire you dead, I can assure you that I am not involved.”

“Who are you, then?”

“My name is Myrande.”

The End

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