For a second everything was still, the world holding its breath for whatever came next. Nathan could feel the beat of his young heart pounding in his ears. It was electrifying.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” Cleo yelled, lowering into a familiar fighting stance, her movements lithe and fluid.

“I could say the same to you.” He leaped backward, his feet skidding down the gravelly hill as he lowered into his own fighting stance.

“I watched you die,” Cleo snarled, her teeth bared. “I saw the light leave your black eyes.”

“You think I didn’t see the same? When you got reborn here, did it not fix your frail, old mind, or have you just always been this stupid?”

“Back to the schoolground insults already?” Cleo scoffed, her hand instinctively reaching for a gun on her hip that was no longer there. “How are you simultaneously ninety, twenty, and twelve years old?”

“Oh, shut up you old hag.”

“Senile old fart. I’m glad you missed bingo.”

“Bastard!” Nathan roared as he dashed forward, his feet moving superhumanly quick up the uneven rocky slope.

Reborn in an entirely new world and I find myself in the exact same situation. Some things never change.

As much as he didn’t want to fall back into his old ways, he had to admit, there was something therapeutic about doing what you know, and doing it well. Plus, he would never pass up an opportunity to try and kill Cleo.

It had been decades since he’d been able to truly go all out – feel his blood pumping, his muscles stretching, his hands doing what they were molded for. Killing.

A frightening, yet familiar part of him was brimming beneath his skin, scratching and clawing to break free and remind himself of what he was capable of. What he was truly capable of. He just had to let it out.

He thrust his hands toward his nemesis.

Cleo slipped to the side, quick as she had always been, and narrowly dodging the strike. She turned, thrusting her own hand toward Nathan’s side. Nathan brought his arm down, pinning the woman’s wrist against his ribs and swept her feet out from under her.

The woman twisted midair, using her momentum to vault herself upwards and wrap her legs around Nathan’s neck, threatening to strangle him. I’ve seen this move a million times, Nathan thought.

Before her legs could tighten, Nathan thrust a hand between his neck and her legs. He grabbed her ankle with his other hand and ripped her off, throwing her to the ground. His body felt even stronger than it had in his prime.

Cleo landed in a roll, unfazed, and hopped to her feet. She skipped back a step and lowered back into her fighting stance. They continued in this way for some time. Attacking, feinting, blocking. Matching each blow, parrying with the practiced motions of decades.

Hating Cleo was like riding a bike. Nathan could forget about her. He could go years without seeing her. He could apparently even die and be thrust into another world. But as soon as he saw her, the muscle memory came flooding back to him. And, much like riding bikes, hating Cleo was fun.

The assassin twisted out of his grip, kicking him away from her. He stumbled back several steps, finding himself smiling. Then she turned, and darted toward the treeline.

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“Running already?” Nathan called after her, watching as she sprinted into the forest without a sound, disappearing from view. A large cloud had moved into the sky, casting everything in shade. “I always knew you were a coward, but this is a new low even for–”

A crossbow bolt zipped out of the treeline, aimed directly at Nathan’s head. He moved just in time and the bolt whizzed by, narrowly missing.

“Where the hell did you get a crossbow?” Nathan called, scanning the trees for Cleo. He didn’t see her. Another bolt burst from the trees. He ducked underneath it. “You never knew how to fight fair, did you?”

Cleo didn’t respond. Nathan didn’t have to hear her response, he knew what she would have said. Deal with it. I’ll fight fair after I put a dagger in your gut while you’re not looking.

Nathan dashed toward the trees, leaping over another bolt aimed for his thigh. He crashed through the leaves and ducked low amongst the branches. There was no sign of her.

Everything fell still once more. His breathing was calm and controlled, despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. A cool sheen of sweat slicked over his arms. Oh, how he had missed this.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, little spider,” Nathan cooed. His feet stepped on sticks without a sound. His eyes captured every shift of a shadow. She was in there somewhere. Lurking, planning. How annoying, Nathan preferred action.

Sharp chirping of birds and light rustles of leaves flitted through the air. Nathan never heard Cleo coming, but he knew better than to rely on something so easily fooled as hearing – he’d lost that decades ago. He relied on something more. The change in how the air moved, the loss of a single lance of light streaming from above. It was like a sixth sense.

The woman dropped from the branch above him, falling as quietly as a spider on a thread of silk. But that didn’t matter to Nathan. He heard her in his gut.

Nathan twisted around, striking a hand upward into his attacker’s stomach. At the same time, Cleo drove her knee down and into his solar plexus. Both of them staggered backward, gasping for air. Cleo landed on the ground, leaning with one hand against a nearby tree trunk.

They stared at each other, frozen, Cleo’s eyes smoldering with a deep-set anger. He didn’t take back his earlier thought about her beauty. Her beauty was just much the same as that of a tiger before it tries to maul you. Undeniable, but best appreciated from a safe distance.

“It’s been too long,” Nathan said with a wicked grin once he caught his breath.

“We killed each other less than twenty four hours ago,” Cleo said, glaring. “Is your mind still ridden with dementia?”

Nathan chuckled, rolling shoulders back. “Please, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. Being cooped up in that home was never the same. Couldn’t stretch our muscles.” He cracked his knuckles. “I missed this.”

Cleo just watched him, not speaking, muscles tensed like a cat ready to pounce. Her fingers curled around the trigger of her crossbow, itching to pull it, another bolt already loaded.

“I see you feel it too, Cleo,” Nathan continued. “You enjoy this. The fight. Having someone that is almost your perfect equal… almost. We both know that I’m just that much better.” He grinned. An award winning smile.

She would never admit it, but Nathan knew that Cleo loved the thrill just as much as he did. The push and pull of their fight.

There had been a time back in the retirement home, after Nathan had nearly had a stroke, when he was sure that Cleo was going to kill him. He’d been holed up in a bed for days, sleeping over half of the time. It wouldn’t have taken much. Just a simple swap of some medications, or a pillow smothered over the face while Nathan was unconscious would have done the trick. But nothing ever came.

After he’d gotten better, one of the nurses whispered to him that he’d had a special visitor nearly every day. Cleo. She’d spent hours sitting in a chair outside his door, razor sharp knitting needles in hand, knuckles squeezed white, dentures clenched, and eyes boring holes through his door.

Mere feet away from finally completing the mission that had plagued her for decades. Yet she’d never killed him.

Nathan knew exactly why she hadn’t done it. It was the same reason he would have done the same for her. Not because they loved each other – they most certainly did not. Not even because they liked or cared for each other. But because, after all that time, after years – decades – of trying to kill one another, if it had ended like that, it would have felt cheap. She wouldn’t have accepted that.

Loathe as the two were to admit it, the hatred they held for each other, the extremes each would go to kill the other, had become the essence of their existence. If either one were to die from anything besides the other’s hand, it would have been unthinkable. Waving the white flag in a lifelong duel. A defeat more bitter than death itself.

There was a certain element to this game they played. A reason that Nathan knew it would never end. Cleo wouldn’t kill him. She couldn’t. Just as he wouldn’t kill her.

He believed that until the crossbow bolt sunk into his chest.