Fleck’s fiery hazel eyes met Slate’s dark brown, never wavering and full of aggression. This fight would be either his last or hers, and Fleck didn’t want to be on the losing end of this battle.
In the corner of her eye, Fleck saw Ginger snatch up her Purple-Plasma Pistol and take careful aim for Slate’s head. Fleck, without tearing her eyes away from Slate’s, stopped her a second before she pulled the trigger.
“I’m sorry, Ginger,” Fleck said to her caring friend, “but this is my fight. I cannot have someone else fight my own battles. But thank you for your loyalty and bravery. And you, Jade,” Fleck added when she saw that Jade had done the some thing as Ginger. “I think that you killing one king in a day is good enough, don’t you?”
“You don’t have to play Miss Heroine, you know,” Ginger said imploringly. “It could be the last thing you ever do. You let us end this or you and you won’t be risking your life of wasting your time.”
“Yeah, but I should at least finish this honorably, weather it’s me or Slate that falls in the end.” Fleck stood her ground with the stubbornness of a mule.
“Whatever,” Jade sighed defeatedly. “But I do think that to kings are better then one, if you know what I mean.” Jade motioned a shooting action with her gun and blew imaginary smoke off of the nozzle.
“When I win this fight,” Slate growled through gritted teeth, “I’ll remember how willing you to were to kill me for the sake of this traitor.” He spat out the word. “And believe me, you will both pay the price for your treasonous actions.”
The two tomboys weren’t the least bit intimidated. “Yeah, you’ll beat her in a fight when pigs fly!” Jade spat onto the ground.
“Yeah she’ll whip you good!” Ginger laughed with a dark grin. “And if you even come close to beating her, then I’ll turn your head into a puddle of purple sludge. Well, it’s not much more then that already, is it?”
“I will not stand for insults!” Slate screamed madly, rounding on her with his gun pointed towards Ginger’s chest.
“Slate,” Fleck said in a singsong and condescending tone. “I think that you forgot something.”
“Oh,” Slate said, sounding extremely embarrassed and was red in the face. “I sort of, um... Oh.”
“Yeah, you don’t stand a chance,” Jade muttered to the king with a sly smile on her face. Then she added in a singsong voice much like the one that Fleck had used previously, “You’d better back down while you can.”
“I’ll never back down!” Slate shouted at her, face contorted in a hateful glare. Then her turned to Fleck, sounding far more clam but looking just as unpleasant. “Now, how do you want to play this?”
“Whatever way you want to, It doesn’t really matter to me,” Fleck replied mockingly, “because either way I’ll end up winning.”
Slate screamed with fury and fired numberless rounds from his weapon at her, not even attempting to aim. Fleck swerved to the side, allowing the deadly ammunition to sail right past her. Then she dashed towards him, delivering a powerful blow to his shoulder with practiced persuasion.
Slate grunted with pain and was knocked to the ground. Fleck pinned him down and prepared to rake his exposed stomach with her unsheathed claws when the king swung his heavy medal gun towards her face. Fleck fell to the ground as Slate rose from where he had once lay, grinning at his presumed victory. Fleck tasted blood in the corner of her mouth and the side of her head ached from the tremendous blow, but she wasn’t just about to give up that easily.
Slate approached her slowly, thinking that she was unconscious. Her eyes narrowed into such thin slits that they appeared completely shut, she watched the tom’s every move, watching and waiting for to perfect time to strike. Then it came; a second before Slate fired his weapon. Fleck used her strong hind legs to kick the gun, averting its line of fire skywards. She had been hoping to also knock it out of Slate’s grip, but he had had to strong a handhold o the weapon.
Slate was momentarily stunned, and Fleck took this opportunity to make a long, thin slash mark on his forehead, just above his eyes. Then she pounced on top of him and pinned him to the ground, her unsheathed claws viciously digging into the flesh on his exposed forearm. Slate snapped out of his brief daze and struggled. Luckily, Fleck had positioned herself so that Slate couldn’t use his hind legs to kick her off. But instead he twisted his head around and bit her paw.
Fleck let out a cry of pain and instinctively pulled away from him, but he still had a firm grip on her paw. She backed up and tried to pull him off, but when this didn’t work, she slashed him across his chest. Now it was his turn to back away from her. The cut had been deeper then Fleck had eve meant it to be. Slate had dropped him gun onto the ground when Fleck had last pinned him down, but now he had picked it up again, prepared to attack once more.
“You’ll never win this one, Fleck,” Slate spat, suppressing a cringe of pain and clutching his free paw to his bleeding chest in feeble attempt to stem the blood flow.
“Oh, really?” Fleck said in her best bubblehead voice. Then she added with a cunning darkness, “Because it looks to me like I have the upper hand right now.”
“But that won’t last for long!” Slate shouted with rage, releasing a powerful blast from his weapon.
Fleck rolled her eyes a split second before she leapt into the air to avoid the strike, landing neatly onto the very ground that she had been standing on a moment before. She had her head bent and her eyes closed as if she had just finished a gymnastics tournament.
“Are you still so sure?” she inquired slyly, opening her eyes and raising her head to reveal a large smile.
Slate didn’t answer. Instead, he charged, head bent down like a bull towards her with an infuriated roar. Fleck lightly darted to the side, half-expecting him to comically thunder past her. But instead, he merely changed direction and, before she could react, rammed head on into Fleck, knocking her to the ground.
He pinned her down and raked at her stomach with half-sheathed claws. Fleck managed to free one of her paws from his painfully tight grip and slashed his cheek fur. While Slate was temporarily immobile from his pain and shock, Fleck shoved his off of her. She dashed a couple of strides away from the stunned king. Then she crouched there trying to ignore from the burning pain that pulsed from the deep gashes on her stomach.
But Slate wasn’t just going to sit back and allow her to take a moment to recover and brutally launched himself at her, flecks of crimson blood dripping onto the dusty earth from the deep cut on his cheek. Fleck dashed away to evade his attack, but the pain slowed her. It was only by a small degree, but it was still enough to give Slate the present upper hand.
Slate knocked her to the ground, but she countered with a bite on his shoulder. Slate let out a cry of pain and fell backwards, allowing her to get back up to her paws. She waited a second for Slate to recover from her blow, letting him get to his paws. The moment he did, before he could attack, Fleck lashed out with her hind legs, kicking dust into his eyes. The king covered his eyes with his front paws but it was to late--the damage had already been done.
While Slate was vainly attempting to free his streaming eyes of the dirty grit, Fleck lashed out at him and tore at his already wounded shoulder. Slate briefly opened his eyes, which were streaked with red--giving him an insane look--then closed them again from the unbearable burning pain. He made a blind swipe for where he thought that Fleck was.
He was infuriated when she darted skillfully out of his way. He started to violently swing his gun around, trying to catch Fleck off guard. But Fleck was watching with immense amusement from a safe distance of half a dozen yards away. Slate looked quite comical, swinging his otherwise deadly weapon at an adversary that wasn’t there.
But then, once Slate had finished rubbing most of the grit out of his eyes, he saw her standing far out of harm’s way, suppressing mocking laughter. This made him even more mad, if that was possible. He roared with rage and attempted to fire his gun. When he realized that he was holding it the wrong way, he turned it around, grumbling angrily all the while, and fired.
Fleck sprang high into the air to avoid to gunshot, but this time she leapt so that she was headed straight for Slate. While she was landing, she kicked the king’s gun out of his paws, sending it skidding many feet away. Almost immediately after she had landed, she lashed out at his back with her hind legs, knocking him down. He was weaponless and badly wounded, and Fleck was perched on top of his back with her gun poised to kill.
“Sweet dreams, Slate,” Fleck whispered into his ear with a devilish grin.
And then she pulled the trigger, leaving yet another kingdom without a king.
______________________________________________________________________
-KittyLover8
© 2013
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