Fist to Fist

Finally, the clearing fell still. All that remained were the smoldering embers of the orc village and the two figures facing off in the center – Noah and the hulking orc chieftain. The chieftain, a mountain of muscle and rage, was the sole survivor, his face contorted in a mask of fury and disbelief. His ragged breathing echoed in the unnatural quiet, a testament to the ordeal he'd just endured.

Noah lowered the Desert Eagle, the spent Magic Bullet dissolving into wisps of smoke. His golden eyes, cold and calculating, met the orc's gaze.

"Your turn," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper but laced with a deadly promise.

The silence stretched, thick with tension. The orc chieftain roared, a primal sound that seemed to shake the very ground, but it was a hollow roar, devoid of the earlier confidence.

''Raaaa!"