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Kraven's reflexes are fast enough to deflect and evade Victor's incoming attacks. He has a lifetime of experience fighting beasts not so different from this creature; yes, it was strong and fast, with claws and teeth that could rend flesh and bone as easily as anything, but so too did all of the beasts whose heads line the wall of Kraven's trophy room. His timing is nearly perfect; clawed fists are redirected, he moves with a grace and speed uncommon for a man his size. He'll bide his time for now, hoping that Victor will expend his energy and leave himself open for retaliation. Though the knife he had first wielded may be on the floor now, he could reclaim it, or use another weapon; the Hunter never goes anywhere without being well-armed. But Victor's attacks are relentless, and don't exactly leave him an opportunity to re-arm. "You fight well, my friend," he says between parries, "But I've felled more dangerous beasts than you." And then the opening he was waiting for, giving Kraven the chance to pull the somewhat smaller knife from its sheath on his belt, and plant it into Victor's chest, holding and twisting it for effect. The Hunter doesn't need to worry about disabling first, or questioning. He's aiming to kill, pure and simple. A knife to the heart should put the beast down, shouldn't it?
*
Behind the bar's counter, Lynette still rests on the floor, her limbs sprawled however she had landed when slumping down like a doll. Her fingers twitch, her voice whines gently in her throat, and with a drag, her hand finds that pricking thing still stuck in her neck. Giving it a yank, she hisses in and looks at the object with haze-coated, black eyes. Not yet having strength back in her tingling legs, she pulls herself along, trying to escape the cover of the bar and see what exactly is going on. The sounds come at her ears, muffling as if she were under water, and finally, she watches as two shapes swing and strike at one another; the smell of blood is heady and stretching toward overwhelming.
*
A beast with savagery and a man with military training, but both are embraced by Victor Creed rather then at war with each other. He doesn't seem to be getting tired, the energy from his blows doesn't seem to lessen like it should. He could seemingly keep going for ever…
Then that knife is planted in his chest and the fight stops for a moment, Victor seeming to stand there frozen in shock. Then he grins, an expression cruel and vicious. His hand clamps down on Kravens, pinning it there as he -twists- the knife even further into himself with a pained noise, blood coming from between his lips as he leans forward till his face is right in front of Kraven's own.
"You've never even dreamed of a beast like -me-" he snarls, then his clawed hand comes up, raking the belly and chest of the man trapped close to him, slicing his chin to boot. It was the sort of wound that would hurt terribly and kill slowly without treatment. He wanted this 'hunter' to suffer.
*
Kraven's eyes widen as Victor makes a show of twisting the knife in his own flesh, and then he lets out a loud growl of pain as those claws slice his torso. He stumbles backward, leaving the knife where he had planted it. Blood sprays from his wound, and for the first time Kraven seems hurt, beyond just a flesh wound. "I've dreamt every night for decades of a beast like you," he snarls, his breathing growing ragged from the wound Victor had dealt. "If you can bleed, you can die," he says, though it's not without its irony, considering Kraven is in much worse shape than Victor at this point. He wasn't ready for a fight like this. He knew all about Lynette, but wasn't expecting such a formidable guard dog at her heel. Even so, the fight isn't over. Two knives down, but Kraven still has a few tricks up his sleeve. His eyes flicker toward where Lynette fell; maybe he could manage to collect the target, and make an escape. Of course, she's not where he left her. Curses.
*
Lynette grumbles, her shakey arms pushing her up and to her knees. Crawling was faster than dragging. The battle was becoming clearer to her now, but all she had on the figures was which one was which, even in shape and voice. Gritting her teeth, she rumbles a growl of her own, and soon, Kraven will feel his form be pushed by something, a force that isn't there physically. His body moves in a jerk at first, before flying against a table's edge. A rippling of scales now decorates the girl's shoulders and nape of her neck, her eyes solid and slitted. With her fingertips in a puddle of crimson, and her hand around the hunter's own beloved knife, she rests on her knees and drags his vitae across her brow. "Leave, or y'dyin' t'night." She warns Kraven, before placing his blade against her own throat, and pressing just so, creating a small line of pressure to break his flesh, hot and painful to the touch of air as his blood starts rushing to the surface.
*
Victor just snarls, pulling the knife from his own chest and hurling it across the room where it stabs into one of the bar-room chairs. He'll probably catch hell for that later, but it might get in his way if he keeps moving. Lynette's sudden rejoining of the fight? It brings a feeling of relief beneath that haze of violence, but he'd express that later once Kraven is dealt with. Lynette was warning him, so he'd ease up -just- a little. "Yer' already dyin'," Sabertooth speaks up. "Y'don't get yourself patched up? You'll be dead in two hours. Y'stay here and keep this up? I'll make it two minutes or she'll make it two seconds."
*
Kraven freezes, feeling the pressure of the phantom blade against his throat, and the welling of blood as Lynette makes her cuts. "Cursed woman," he growls, but doesn't move against her. She has him, and he knows it. And Victor is right; this wound will be the end of him, if he doesn't take steps to mitigate the damage. If it can bleed, it can die, right? "It will take more than this to kill me, beast," he snarls. He thinks for a moment to reach for the last weapon on him, a gun; he could, even with Victor bearing down on him and Lynette using her voodoo witchcraft against him, draw and take his shot, put a bullet between her eyes. But he wouldn't survive it. No glory in a kill you don't outlive. He puts the thought out of his head. Another day. Now he knows what to expect, what to avoid. Kraven moves, but backward, toward the door. If they'll let him leave with his life, it may be a decision they regret later, but he won't complain about it. Time to plan, and prepare, and return to finish the job another time.
*