Croix-de-Fer limped through a narrow hallway opposite to the staircase, followed by a sullen Daniel. The two reached the end of the hallway and went up the polished stairs that led to the attic. They taunted each other as they set themselves in position: each one standing in the center of a circle inserted in a larger one that comprised the two smaller ones, creating a sort of dueling ground. These figures were carved in the ample attic’s mosaic floor, and they seemed to be faintly tinted with blood.
“Are you ready, childe?”
“Sure, Croix-de-Fer…” replied the neonate. “You always knock me down!”
“So?! Practice makes perfect, young man - and YOU happen to be quite far from perfection!”
“Oh, really? Well, guess what: I’ve just defeated a Sabbat pack all by myself!”
“I know, I saw it,” said the bald man, leaning on his walking stick. “Disgraceful! A whole minute just to slay four Cainite fledglings!”
“It will take you a lot more to stop me now though!” Daniel readily drew his two handguns and loaded them.
“So we will be using weapons this time, is that it?”
“That is it indeed! Are you ready?”
Croix-de-Fer smiled with disdain. “I am always ready.” The bald man dashed to his opponent like a lightning bolt, holding his walking stick high to hit Daniel with all his might. The neonate slid to his left just swiftly enough to dodge his sire’s strike, firing several rounds as fast as he could – but the bald man moved even quicker than the bullets themselves! Each step from the elder vampire brought the two closer together and pushed the neonate closer to the edge of the bigger circle. Daniel was forced to adopt a defensive stance to stand his ground: seeing that his sire was about to split him from top to bottom, the neonate grasped his guns’ grips tightly and lifted them above his head, blocking the cane and locking it with the guns.