Why Bring A Knife To A Fistfight?
"Quick question." Gen grinned. "Do you know how to use that?"
The air in the basement was thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the sound of Ivan's heavy breathing. He stood, his burly frame tense and ready. He lowered himself with the knife in his hand into a stance, its edge glinting menacingly in the light. "Come closer and find out."
Gen faced him, her stance relaxed. She had no weapon in hand, but she didn't need one. She already knew her body was a weapon of mass destruction. In more ways than one. She chuckled to herself at the joke.
Ivan's lips curled into a grim smile. "Ready for round two, ma'am?"
She nodded in amusement. "Very well. Let's finish this."
Ivan lunged first, his knife slicing through the air. Gen sidestepped effortlessly, her movements almost like a dance. She pivoted on her heel, avoiding his follow-up slash and delivering a swift kick to his wrist. The knife wavered but didn't drop.