Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

Bruce and Oliver circled each other. Each making a half-hearted attempts to land a blow while they sized the other up.

Oliver’s fighting style was a mixture, things that he had been taught by many different people and among others, incorporated Eskrima, Kata, Taolu, karate and street fighting.

He was familiar with many more fighting styles however, and recognised that Bruce seemed to mostly use a mixture of Keysi, Tae Kwon Do and Krav Maga. His style was also distinctive in that he rarely deflected any parries, preferring to block them and strike back.

As the fighting stepped up a notch, Oliver was forced to admit that his technique was good; tight and controlled, with little excess energy expired.

Oliver also couldn’t help but notice that he also had a lot of scars on his torso and back, not as numerous as Oliver’s, and no burn marks, but more than enough blade and abrasion wounds to suggest that he was not a competition fighter. He also recognised stitching in the bullet wound on his shoulder, as Felicity’s. Considering how recent the wound was, Bruce was doing a damn good job of ignoring it.

Something about Felicity helping patch him up annoyed him, and Oliver was the first to step things up, delivering three blows delivered much faster than previously. The first blow a distraction, which allowed his second to connect with Bruce’s jaw; the third blow, which should have put Bruce on the ground, didn’t connect however, as Bruce had compensated for the change of pace and ducked out of the way.

After that, the fight soon spread from the training mats to the rest of the lair, as they used whatever was close to leap onto and off of, much as they would in a real fight. The only space that was out of bounds, was Felicity’s desk.

After Bruce had thrown Oliver over the table that Sara, Dig and Roy were using, and Bruce had vaulted over it after him, Oliver used her desk as a barrier between them, giving himself a moment to recuperate, but the fight was getting too close to Felicity for comfort and she stood up, turning to Bruce with her arms spread wide, protecting her computers and making it difficult (but not impossible) for Bruce to vault over it and her.

“If you lay a finger on my babies, I will drain your trust funds down to $5! Same goes for you Queen.”

Bruce seemingly believed her, and he backed up a few paces, took a running jump to the overhead light fixtures and used it to swing over Felicity’s desk. That made him an easy target for Oliver, but Bruce was able to roll away from the worse of the blow.

After that, they both made an effort to avoid her immediate area.

They ran along beams, vaulted the stairs and swung from the various roped and chains that Oliver used to train with but neither reached for a weapon, as if they had both decided that this was about their abilities, not fancy weapons.

Although he wouldn’t have hesitated to in a normal fight, Oliver also chose not to exploit Bruce’s bullet wound; he didn’t want to win because someone else had wounded his opponent.

They were pretty evenly matched but neither was willing to concede defeat and the fight dragged on so long, that the others grew tired and returned to their work.

Finally Bruce went down but thinking that he had won, Oliver dropped his guard, allowing Bruce to kick his feet out from under him. They lay on the mats, both panting heavily, neither making a move to get up until they’d had at least a little rest.

Bruce began laughing and Oliver was surprised to realise that his earlier grudging respect had turned to genuine respect. He laughed too.

“Man, I haven’t had a test that good since the Assassins League came to town.”

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