9 – Fight In The Air

Mockingbird’s staff snapped downward at where his hip had been. If it had struck he’d probably not be able to walk for hours at least.

She pulled the strike when he moved out of the way, spinning the long metal pole back up and into a ready posture. Smooth, calm, professional. She had to have noticed how shaky the structure they were standing on was. No unnecessary damage to the thing that kept them from falling. Smart. 

“What, head shot’s too good for you?” Frank spat, drawing a knife smoothly into his hand. It was a big hunting blade, with a serrated back edge. It was probably long enough to block her weapon with. If he moved right.

“I just want to stop you, not kill you,” she snapped back.

He almost—almost—grinned again. 

“Rattled?”

“Shut the hell up and fight me like a man, Castle,” she said, rolling her eyes, her hands coming down and her staff magically separating into her two batons again. Distance weapons not that useful in this cramped space; confirmed smart. 

He could have thrown the knife—might have with any other opponent—but he’d seen her both on TV and in real life slap arrows out of the air with those weapons. He wouldn’t gain enough time, he’d only hit her with a miracle and they were so close together she’d be on him like handcuffs in the next second. 

She moved towards him, light and fast, but with power. 

People forgot, looking at her next to Thor, Captain America, Winter Soldier and even the smaller Falcon and Hawkeye, that Mockingbird was a big woman. And she fought all of those big guys on the regular. 

Still, they probably didn’t want to hurt her and well…to his shame, Frank kinda did. At least enough that she would stay the hell out of his way.

Her left baton swept out at head height, a knock out strike—

And a feint.

Castle dropped down, under the blow and got his knife between his gut and her right baton, knocking it to the side. It skipped up and rapped him on the knuckles as she withdrew and he nearly dropped the blade from the sudden shock of pain. If that hadn’t been a skipping motion he’d have broken knuckles. 

Before he could recover she pressed—using the motion of her two blows to pull her sideways to him, coming in tight, inside his arm length and slamming her elbow into his jaw.

He jerked his head back and the blow was glancing again but he took another shot of pain and now he was mad.

Damn she was smart though. She danced back out, away from him, out of his reach where his strength and body weight mattered. 

Frank Castle put his head down and…

Charge! (Go to 11)

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