Work Text:
Strifing with bro is one of the few things that make sense in your world some days. Strike, dodge, parry, duck - sweat drips down your jaw, your lips parted, panting. No distractions. Stay focused. Warmth leaks down your upper arm and you know that you’ve been wounded. You aren’t sure how bad the injury is, but you can’t stop to think about it now. Springing forward, you attempt to swipe your opponent’s legs out from underneath him with a low kick. He does not go crashing to the ground as you’d hoped, but he loses his balance and you take this to your advantage. You lash out at his legs once more, this time with your blade. If his stance is poor you may be able to defeat him. He curses, regaining his footing and blocking your next blow. The harsh Texan sun beats down upon you mercilessly from the rooftop of your apartment building. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last, but your lungs are burning and your muscles throb with every movement you make. Shit. Pay attention. He’s lunging towards you and you stumble backwards. Steady yourself! Remain stable! Don’t you dare fall goddamn it!
You promptly lose you footing and fall back on your ass.
Snarling, you block horizontally with your sword just as he brings the katana down on you. Ow. Your arms quake as the asshole pushes down, using his raw strength to his advantage. Ugh, your arms are going to give way any second. Your weapon is inching closer and closer to you. You curse the treacherous blade. It’s centimeters away from your throat when you finally acknowledge your defeat, grinding out a hoarse “Fuck you,” as you vision blurs white at the edges. The last thing you hear before passing out is his cocky chuckling.
What an insufferable prick.