Vasquez snarled, the corner of his lips curling up and his eyes filled with fury. He looked excited. Bob, on the other hand was full of focus, he knew the odds would be stacked against him; both Vasquez and Bob had spent much of their lives in violence and combat, but at thirty five years Vasquez’ senior it would be almost impossible for him to win.

Just last long enough for Lara to get back onto her feet thought Bob, as he made his slow approach towards Vasquez.

To his surprise, Vasquez stayed in position and ripped the white t-shirt away from his body, revealing a continuation of the tattoos that crawled up his neck and down his arms. The only space left for skin was the inside of a huge Cross that rippled along his chest and down his torso.

Never taking his eyes off Bob, Vasquez slowly wrapped the t-shirt around his left hand and took a fighting pose more akin to Muay Thai fighter as opposed to Bob who had set himself up in a boxing stance, his right hand holding the knife close to his body.

Ah fuck. This is going to hurt. More scars for the collection. Vasquez said to himself as he braced for what was to come, but it never came. Bob had adopted a defensive style, this was dangerous as Vasquez’s powers would soon be back online and ready to use. Bob was only human… Then it clicked. He was waiting for his friends to regain consciousness.

Coming to the realisation, Vasquez made the first move. Coiling for a brief moment, he leapt forwards, closing down the gap between them. A fast jab with his right, was parried easily by Bob, but he swiftly followed up with a powerful push kick straight into Bob’s stomach, forcing him back two paces.

To Vasquez’s surprise, Bob took the hit in his stride and was swiftly back in his defensive position.

“So, the old man can take a hit, huh” Vasquez muttered under his breath, amazed.

Bob knew he was in trouble, the age difference was too much. He could beat Vasquez on strength, even power, but due to his size and age most of the speed from his youth was gone. As Vasquez moved in for his second assault, Bob threw his own jabs which were parried or slipped. The hunting knife was still gripped tight in Bobs right hand, he needed to be close and to find an opening before striking. He couldn’t risk missing and leaving himself vulnerable.

The two continued to move around each other, in the confines of the kitchen at the Spains Hall estate. Meanwhile, Lara’s vision was blurring back into consciousness whilst Wren began to tend Archie, rolling him, gently, onto his back.

Sensing his time running out, Vasquez renewed his assault. A flurry of jabs and hooks, which were mostly dodged or blocked by Bob, who seemed to be leaving himself slightly open in order to grip the knife tightly. Capitalising, Vasquez flew in with a round-house kick aiming straight for the right side of Bobs head.

As Vasquez pivoted his feet to put all his power into the kick, Bob’s eyes twinkled. Vasquez sensed the trap, too late. His body was in full motion, whirling toward Bob, who timed his move to perfection.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Bob lunged forward, thrusting the knife straight towards him. His foot hit the air behind Bobs head, striking him with shin as the hunting knife was plunged deep into Vasquez’s shoulder. He felt the blade cut through the flesh and scrape along bone.

It was pain. Deep immense pain. Somehow, Vasquez used the momentum of the movement and struck Bob with a wild hook with his free arm. This caused the giant bear of a man to falter and stagger backwards, shock clear across his face.

Fortunately, Bob held onto the knife, withdrawing it from Vasquez’s shoulder as he staggered backward, dazed from the blow. Ignoring the pain and capitalising on this, Vasquez leapt forwards trying to disarm Bob.

Sensing the danger, Bob dropped the blade to the floor and kicked it backwards towards Lara who was now almost back on her feet. Vasquez stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Bobs torso. Taking advantage of Vasquez’s confusion, close proximity and injury, Bob gritted his teeth, pushed away slightly and then lent in with a huge headbutt, breaking the bridge of the Mexican’s nose, the crunch was audible.

It was Vasquez’s turn to stagger backwards now, but leaving no margin for mistakes, Bob continued his assault, moving forwards through his own hazed mind. He reached forwards, grabbed him by the shoulders and in one fluid movement flung him in the air and smashed him through the dining room table.

Lara looked on in shock and awe at the seventy years old man. A true powerhouse of strength. He smeared in his adversaries blood, beads of sweat ran down the side of his head and his breath sounded haggard, he was starting to fatigue. But it was too late for Vasquez.

Despite smashing his opponent through an oak table, Bob’s grip remained firm. He pulled Vasquez to his feet and delivered a huge push kick into his chess, blasting him across the room and against the wall on the far side of the kitchen.

Vasquez hit the wall with a thud, and slowly slumped down to the floor, clutching Bob’s empty holster. Must have come off in the commotion Bob thought as he rounded on Lara, Archie and Wren.

Lara continued to stare at Bob, mouth agape. Wren however had her hands outstretched over Archie. Ethereal green wisps of energy flowed from her fingertips and into Archie’s wounds. His was also surrounded in a light green glow. This was the first time any of the group had seen Wren’s abilities in full flow, her face was full of determination and strain. Bob and Wren watched on in awe.

Vasquez raised his head from across the room, his jaw dropped at what he was witnessing. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and clutched a small wooden cross, attached to simple, plain black, string. It belonged to his late sister and was his reminder to the oath he took on that fateful day. Silent tears fell from his eyes and onto the floor in front of him. He bowed his head in silent prayer.

After a few moments, Vasquez heard the group in front of him begin to whisper to each other. He once again, raised his head and through blurred eyes saw the giant man face him once more, knife in hand he slowly approached. The two girls and other, slender man were also on their feet, a few paces behind their protector.

Bob called out across the room “It’s too late now. It’s over, we don’t want to hurt you. This doesn’t have to go any further.”

Steeling himself through the pain, Vasquez got to his feet. “No, you are mistaken, old man. It is me who does not wish to hurt you, or your friends any more.”

Slowly, Vasquez raised Bob’s gun into the air. Bob winced and was about to charge forward, but he faltered as Vasquez turned on the safety, placed it on the floor and slid it over to Bob. He tossed the holster across the room shortly after.

“My abilities recharged a short time ago. I did not use them, I have honour. I did not want to hurt you, as much as I did. I only wanted to send a message of strength.” He paused and looked at Wren. “…and how could I now raise a finger against you, when you have been touched by god.”