Shadows leap across the walls like silhouettes. The old fluorescent lights strobe erratically, casting jittery shadows over the combatant's faces. The flashes of the outside tunnel whip past the window adding a disorienting effect on the train.
The reflections on the windows were warped and twisted like a ghostly blur. A low deafening roar echoes through like a howl. Edward grabs the Reaper's head and slams it on a snack cart, sending wrappers and coffee cups flying in the air.
The Reaper lands with a right hook then a left. Ducking into a seat row, the assassin grabs a cushion seat as a shield. Swinging his katana, Edward slices through the cushion like paper. Twisting behind Edward, the Reaper leads with a chop to the neck. A slap to the face. Punches to the sternum.
Edward grunts loudly to himself, the pain reverberating around his body. He swings his hands to grab the Reaper's arm, twisting it back before backhand smacking him in the face.
"Who sent you?" Edward screams out, sweeping his foot below the Reaper's legs. The man leaps back to create distance before throwing a few blood bags in the air. The plastic bags shake violently before bursting all over the train like shrapnel, blood teardrops raining down on the unconscious passengers.
Flicking his fingers, the blood cleanly peels off the drowsy passengers and neatly forms a spiral ring of crimson red around the Reaper. Edward stands tall and defiant as the train rocks beneath them, they lock on with a tense standoff. Outside the environment races and constantly shifts in a blur of color and motion as the train speeds to its destination. Edward looks as the hands of the clock slowly transition–He has around 8 minutes left until the train meets its stop.
"One wrong move and the sleeping passengers would be permanently dreaming," the Reaper says, loading his pistol and waving it around the passengers sleeping around them. Edward tenses a bit, his eyes narrowing with inherent disgust. Putting away his pistols, the assassin pulls out a lighter and a cigar. The Reaper lights the cigar for a smoke break. A grey cloud of tobacco smoke blows out from his lips, twisting into spiral rings. The rings drift towards Edward like a taunt.
As the train turns in an arc, the floor rocks between them. Edward and the Reaper carefully hold onto something to maintain their balance. Above them, the train's roof rattles as if it is about to tear off from the pressure. The combatants stare on as the tension between them rises.
"You wouldn't dare," Edward threatens, keeping his foot steady and far apart. The Reaper just stares unamused, tapping his cigar on a slumped passenger's coat.
"I wouldn't. My only target is you after all," the Reaper shrugs his shoulders, lazily tossing the cigar on the floor. "As well as the $5 million bounty tied to you. You're just a living paycheck."
"Is that what my life's worth? Hmph…I actually expected more," Edward coldly remarks, his voice cools as he tightens his grip on the train pole. "Greed really makes you sell your soul for some loose change."
"Being a hitman is an easy profession, especially those who can bend the supernatural with the flick of their fingertips," The Reaper calmly utters, the red spiral ring of blood glistening in the light above him. "You bleed, I get paid. All I care about is that someone writes the paycheck."
The spiral rings spin around like a washing machine on full power. It all becomes a red blur around the Reaper's black attire. Edward tenses, preparing for the incoming attack.
"Hemorrhage," the Reaper raises his hand high in the air. The surrounding blood spiraling around him shoots out at Edward. A cold mirage of crimson red surrounds Edward's head, encasing and hardening around him. Suddenly in a cold pop, the blood explodes around his face blinding him.
The world vanished in a splash of red.
Momentarily blinded, Edward tries to maintain enough distance between him and his opponent. Crouching down, the Reaper prepares to dash towards the blinded old man. Encasing his arm with hardened blood, the assassin charges toward Edward like a slipstream. It is like he moved in a blink of an eye from point A to point B.
Twisting his arm back, the Reaper aims for Edward's head. Sensing something coming his way, Edward shifts his body weight to dodge the attack. Swinging his arm, the assassin grazes Edward's face with blood pearls kissing the carpet floor. The tension in the Reaper's other arms crackles– gathering power like a storm. In a blur, he snaps his arm back, the motion barely a whisper–then the punch explodes forward.
Opening his eyes, the Reaper's eyes turn from calm to annoyed. Edward had somehow caught the punch just in time. His hand tightly clamps around the Reaper's wrist. The Reaper's fist was a mere inches away from Edward's face. Gently wiping away the blood, Edward's eyes–no longer blind– lock onto the assassin with a calm fury.
"You really are something," the Reaper remarks, his voice rough and raspy. Edward could smell the years of tobacco and nicotine in the man's breath. He reeked of it. The hardened blood around the man's arm starts to heat up like a kettle making Edward instantly release him.
Taking advantage of the situation, the Reaper grabs Edward's shoulder and tries to swing his other arm down but Edward blocks it. Raising his right leg, the assassin smacks Edward's arm out of the way and lands a precise forceful kick to his shoulder.
Using his body weight, the Reaper slams Edward on a nearby wall with a loud thud. Dust scattered as the impact resonated through the ground. Edward struggles to keep his fitting as a loud ring reverberates in his head.
Pulling him back, the assassin punches Edward a couple times in the stomach. The muscles in his arm pull back, the muscles coiling like a spring. With the weight of each moment, he drives his fist into Edward's vulnerable area with a grotesque crunch.
Reacting on his feet, Edward wraps his arms around the Reaper with a bear grip and rushes towards a nearby wall. Jabbing his elbow on Edward's back, the assassin tries to get the old man to let go of him before a loud sharp crack hits his spine. It shoots out from his back and travels across his body.
With the assassin momentarily stunned, Edward steps back, twisting his torso as his fist draws low. His shoulders tense, he wound his arm in a wide circle shooting forward in a blur of precise motion. One strike to the side and another to the face–each one accompanied by a loud crack.
The Reaper swings his arm to punch Edward but the old man crouches down and lands with a couple of furious strikes on the man's stomach. As the old man takes a few steps back to create enough distance, the assassin takes off his overcoat and throws it at Edward.
As the feeling of fabric smothers Edward's face, he feels a sharp jab slam into his throat. Crouching down to recover his airways, the black overcoat slowly falls off the old man's face. Suddenly he is met with a black boot to his face. With a blinding smack, Edward is lying on the crimson-stained carpet floor.
Walking intently toward Edward, the Reaper summons blood daggers out of his hands. The blood drips onto the floor as the Reaper swings the daggers down. Laying with his back played on the ground, Edward lifts and tucks his legs up before booting the assassin in the chest. The impact pushes the assassin back a bit.
Pushing himself off the ground, Edward launches with a wide right hook. Swinging his arm, the Reaper intercepts and twists Edward's strike, and slams his hand in the old man's throat. Still gripping onto Edward's arm, the assassin lands two sharp, powerful blows to the man's chest and stomach. Each strike forces Edward back on the defensive.
Keeping his arms bent and low, Edward pushes forward. Coiling his arm, he swings at the Reaper but the man just blocks the maneuver mid swing with ease and lands an uppercut. Keeping up with the momentum, the Reaper lands a brutal punch at Edward– the rib, a punch to the side, one to the chest then he boots the old man's sternum.
Edward's breathing felt rippled in his chest, each inhale bruising his lungs. Extending his hand, Edward grabs the Reaper's collar and slams on a tabletop. The assassin's head bounces violently like a bobblehead. Still holding onto the collar, Edward lifts the Reaper's head and ricochets it back on the table. A ringing piece echoes through the assassin's head.
Edward's hand slowly lets go of the assassin's collar. As the Reaper regains his surroundings, he tries to grab a knife and stab Edward in the leg. Anticipating this, the old man grabs a cup of coffee and splashes the hot molten liquid on the Reaper's face.
"Aah," the assassin screams, clutching his face. His face burns with intensity as his skin starts to peel and burn from the heat. "You little…ah..my eyes." Each movement only worsens the damage.
Stumbling back, the Reaper tries to face Edward even as his vision recoils from the pain and heat. The steam becomes a smoke cloud hiding Edward's presence. Cutting through the smoke, Edward pulls the Reaper forward into a punch. The Reaper's head cracks under the pressure of the strike like bone against bone.
Trying to fake another punch, Edward aims towards the Reaper's leg but the assassins quickly block it. Twisting his body, Edward aims for a backhand strike, only for the Reaper to turn and block it again.
Edward grabs the Reaper's arm and clears it out of the way. His arm whips around like a thunderbolt and he releases it in a massive crashing blow at the Reaper's face sending him crashing onto the floor.
"Are you done yet?" Edward looms over the battered assassin. The Reaper grabs onto a student's backpack and throws it at Edward. Caught off guard, Edward grabs the backpack out of the air, only to be met with a furious strike to the head.
As Edward stumbles back, he breathes heavily to himself. He looks at the clock–he is running out of time. Keeping his feet wide apart and his stance low, Edward stretches his hands far but close together to his body. The Reaper slowly follows Edward's movement and they slowly inch towards each other. The surroundings darken as the train outside passes another tunnel.
As they inch closer and closer to each other, their arms make contact. Their legs are both wide apart with their arms outstretched towards each other. For a second no one makes a move.
The Reaper launches with a strike but Edward intercepts it and throws it back. As the Reaper stumbles on his footing, Edward keeps his body low and his arms outstretched. The assassin twists his leg trying to aim for a low kick but Edward blocks it with his leg. A scraping sound is heard as the Reaper's foot slides off the old man's shin.
Sweeping his leg, the Reaper tries to trip Edward's balance but the old man jumps over it and tries to land his own low kick. Edward's body aches from the constant struggle but he pushes on. The Reaper stops Edward's strike and flips him onto the ground slamming with a loud grunt.
The Reaper lifts his boot for a heavy stomp but Edward pushes himself out of the way. The boot falls onto the ground to where Edward had been. The Reaper throws a punch at Edward but he twists it mid air pushing the assassin back.
Keeping his arms low, the Reaper throws many fluid strikes at Edward, each one a blur of precision and power. The old man intercepts, blocks, and deflects every single one of them. His body moves with a graceful rhythm mimicking the assassin's attacks.
Their bodies slowly traverse back and forth in the train as the ground shakes below them. Edward grabs and twists the Reaper's arm back. Throwing his palm down, Edward slams it on the Reaper's neck, as the assassin is momentarily stunned, the old man kicks the assassin in the side of the chest.
Edward's body felt strained from the nonstop fighting but he still managed to block a powerful strike to the face. Lifting his boot, Edward stomps on the Reaper's blood-soaked boot. The assassins let out a small grunt, as Edward's fist lands point black at his face.
The Reaper comes around Edward's blind spot trying to land a sharp elbow to the head but Edward shifts his body intercepting it. Winding up his arms, the Reaper comes for a low strike but Edward blocks it with both his hands outstretched. The old man stays firm keeping his feet low on the floor. The momentum leaves both combatants temporarily paused.
Edward felt his vision blur, the blood rushing towards his head. The Reaper squints his eyes trying to push aside the pain around his face. They were both exhausted and their muscles ached as the train's speed started to slow down gradually. The steady hum of the tracks softens as the train starts to ease back.
Grappling the Reaper's arm, Edward tries to bring him closer but the assassin's arm comes over the top. He uses his elbow to break the grapple, clearing his hands out of the way. Edward backs up, using his arm to block a punch to his stomach.
The Reaper leaves with a high kick but Edward lowers himself, dodging it. Charging forward, Edward starts off with a low kick, but the Reaper pushes it back onto the ground. Edward pushes forward with two quick jabs to the ribs but the assassin simply blocks and pushes them back.
The Reaper grabs Edward's arm and twists his body behind him. He locks his arm in a chokehold. Edward could feel his airway closing as he tried to free himself. He puts up a hand to summon his katana but the Reaper just tightens his headlock causing Edward to drop his arms.
With a sharp strained exhale, Edward kicks his leg off the narrow aisle wall, pushing him and the Reaper back. The assassin grunts but his hold stays strong. Edward tries to pry himself free as his arms slip through the Reaper's sleeve. His lungs were fighting for his life. The taste of metal fills his mouth, a sign that he is losing control of the situation.
"Is that all you got?" The Reaper taunts, his tone cold but with an edge of respect. "I wonder how many more contracts I will get when they learn I killed the great Edward Meitner."
His voice cuts deep into Edward's psyche. His hands clawed desperately at the assassin's arm, but his movements were growing sluggish. He is not losing this battle, not like this. Using the last of his strength, Edward moves his head back, headbutting the Reaper in the face.
The chokehold loosens just enough for Edward to slip through. Edward, gasping for air, slams his fist against the Reaper's neck. His eyes dart as he pushes back further into the train, stumbling through his path. The Reaper momentarily catching his breath pursues Edward.
The assassin felt unfazed as he traverses through the narrow aisles and passenger rows. Seeing Edward crouched down on the floor, the Reaper smugly sneers, wiping away blood from his lips. Edward's heart races but he isn't done yet.
"Ah. This has gone on for way too long," the Reaper pulls out his firearm aiming at the back of Edward's head. "Don't worry it will be all quick and painless. I will be out here with $5 million in my bank account."
Edward smirks to himself. He grips tightly on the cold steel of the guardrail. His stances shift, preparing for the final strike.
"Yeah this will end quickly," Edward mutters, determination burning through his eyes. "But it won't be painless." In a grey blur, a cold metal strike jams into the Reaper's stomach. His vision blurs as the firearm falls out of his fingers.
Extending his foot out, Edward twirls around to build up force. The guardrail smacks the Reaper point blank in the head, the impact sending him crashing into an overhead bin. The assassin groans to himself before Edward grabs his suit collar and sends him smacking back into the bin above his head.
A minimalist instrumental 60's oldie rock music starts playing over the combatants as streaks of grey and cold steel smack the Reaper relentlessly over the body. His ribs ring like a church bell on Sunday. His bones arched and folded like a lawn chair in a hurricane. The metal curled around the assassin like a violent embrace.
The feeling of metal fills the Reaper's mouth. He stumbles back violently in the narrow aisle unable to comprehend his surroundings. Everything spun around and rang loudly in his ear.
Edward grabs the Reaper's head, twisting his arms around the man's neck. With a powerful nudge, he slams the assassin's head relentlessly on the overhead bins. The Reaper's arm flailed around with no sense of weight as his head kept crashing into a hard surface.
Edward's fist rotates behind him, loaded like a slingshot that is going to rewrite someone's jaw. The air around him flinched–even gravity knew what was going to happen next.
"I don't know who sent you," Edward stepped forward, his arm rotated so far that it had time to check its clock. "But I don't want you anywhere near my family ever."
The Reaper's eyes widened as if the world around him stopped. He couldn't stop Edward's punch in time. Edward's fist explodes on impact on the Reaper's stomach. The assassin's mouth opens wide, spitting out the blood stuck in his mouth.
Trying to use his remaining strength, the Reaper tries to use the blood in the air but Edward stops him in time. With a fury of backhand strikes and karate chops, Edward lays them fully on the chopping block aka the Reaper's battered body. Every backhand left a new expression on his face, his body frozen in place, catching hands like unpaid debt.
With one final punch to the Reaper's face, the impact connected with a shockwave, scattering equilibrium across the floor. The bruised and battered assassin slouches down on his knees before gravity pulls him onto the ground. He crumbles onto the floor like a crushed-up piece of paper.
"Always respect your elders," Edward coldly remarks, tossing the metal guardrail next to the Reaper's unconscious body. Turning his head, Edward could see the city's skyline coming into view as the train started to slow down gradually. The whistle of the wind softens as the rhythmic clatter of the train becomes slower.
The squeal of the brakes engages–sharp and high-pitched. The landscape starts to become more distinct as it comes clearer into view. The cotton candy clouds feel more static as the train decelerates.
Edward slowly walks over to his cushioned seat, taking a long celebratory deep breath. He slowly takes out his phone and dials a number. He awaits as the ringtone reverberates loudly in the silence.
"Hey. I need assistance," Edward calmly utters, his tone dry yet calm. "I'm arriving at the train station. I need you to keep the area clear–no one gets near the train. I've got a few alive stragglers in the back that need to be investigated immediately."
"What?" the voice on the other end inquires.
"I nearly got killed today," Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed with the situation. "Move fast. I'm arriving very soon. As for the people onboard, the veil will probably dissipate soon so I need to clean up everything as best as I can. Be ready to cover exits."
Hanging up on the call, Edward leans his head on the seat's cushion. It felt both terrible and comfortable at the same time. He wished he could take a long nap after what just happened in the past 30 minutes. Too bad reality is a pain.
Edward vs the Reaper. Winner- Edward Meitner.