They both kept at it, fighting because doing otherwise meant death. Khalifa had properly taken Ronan's guard. She hadn't grown stronger or adapted in ways he hadn't, it was simply the fact that her powers worked better. Ronan's ink spears were deadly, but they were gambles. In a room were nothing went still and the opposition moved like glitches, every throw was almost certain to impale air. And that translated to wasted spirit, which in turn, translated to becoming food.
So he relegated himself, chewing off the fat that Khalifa failed to digest. There were quite a few predators that a thin line on the neck didn't do much to slow down, and that was were he came in.
He swung low as a blur darted towards him, already knowing how it would change direction at the last second. His flipped the head of his weapon, sending the beast barreling into the side wall with a strong flick. The breath he took in-between was all that separated that predator from the next.
Khalifa had severed a few of its eight limbs before it reached him. Momentarily he frowned. Even though there was no audience, he felt like she was taking his spotlight away from him. And worse, she was burning her wick out to keep it shining. Her machete swung out in tight arcs, careful not to traject towards Ronan. Distortion burst out along side her movements, disorienting both friend and foe.
A claw that should have cleanly sunk into her shoulder held on skin for just a fraction of a second longer. The flat of her blade pushed against its side, steering it towards metal instead of collar bone. Ronan stamped its head to the wall before it recovered, splattering viny flesh all over.
The rhythm had found balance. They had thought that rhythm needed chorography, having to look as dramatic as it felt. But in reality, it just needed to be functional. Survival didn't need elegance, it needed results. But to carry those results, they would need will.
Another predator rushed ahead of the tide, hanging on one side to avoid Khalifa's unstable offense. It slipped past, crashing into her attempt to kick. They both tumbled to the ground, finding cushioning in a thin pad of littered flesh. Ronan stepped forward, ramming his pickaxe across its nerves. It shrieked, but its pain was nothing joyful.
Two more took its place before it had dropped completely. The tempo was too fast for respite, and that was grinding them down faster than they ground down the beasts.
He carried the momentum until she stood, blocking the snapping jaw with a piece of hardened bark, and forcing the second one back with the shaft of his weapon. The weight drove him back, sending him back with a few missteps.
"We can't stay here!" he shouted with an edgy tone.
A predator rushed at her, trying to capitalise on the lack of balance. She fell back, allowing it to lunge overhead, her blade cutting through it as it streaked past. Another claw tore through darkness, she rolled out before it could cleave her. Sparks spat into the air.
"I know!" she roared back, unsure of her words in the heat of battle. But knowing what they needed to do didn't get it done. They were safest were they where, at least in relation to the other parts of the room. And if they moved, the jungle would only get wilder. Ronan was done caring about that.
"We move!"
It was a risky play. But the only one that was going to deliver an outcome soon enough. And whatever it was, they would have to accept it.
Khalifa nodded instantly, having already been craving those words. Distortion erupted and cut, then erupted again. It pulsed erratically, creating gaps that the predators were just too instinctive to close. Then she broke for it.
Her steps were not weighed down by her bubbles of air sacks, so she moved much faster than anything within it. A predator lunged at her, trying to barricade her path, but she slipped through. Another one came from the side, but its limbs took too long to spring out. She twisted around it.
Through the chaos, she carved a shallow path with her machete. She didn't aim to kill, her lifeless strikes should so. She just hoped to survive.
Ronan followed behind, but without distortion slowing his enemies down, he was simply too slow to weave through them. A large shape horned into him from the side with speed that didn't match its size.
He gasped, feeling his feet ascend off the ground, and then crash into the metal floor. Pain gave him a passionate hug and relinquished hold of him before he understood he had stopped running.
The beast loomed over him, then pierced its claws into his waist. There was nothing to hinder the depth this time, so the strike exhausted its kinetic energy while boring into his flesh. His vision fizzed, going white like it had suddenly lost signal. The beast tossed his like a golf ball, jerking him even harder across the rusted ground.
The pickaxe slipped from his grip and for a second–
Just a second–
He couldn't move.
***
Khalifa glanced back when she heard him groan in a way no movie had been able to imitate. What happened after had been too fast for even a scream, but not for action.
She didn't hesitate. The other distracting bits of information, like sound, rasp breaths and the six predators lunging for her faded, leaving only Ronan. Battered and bleeding, with predators hanging on his neck.
She didn't distort the room in the way she had done before, that method was too ineffective to save him. Instead, she tweaked the frames per second that they moved on. The air itself broke down, losing meaning but gained weight.
She had done something similar to this once, when she was against the rhino. Then, there had been a way out. Now, there was the smell of blood and bits of flesh hanging from the walls.
The predators no longer moved, they stood in place and watched her whizz by, with blades for eyes. Her machete swung from side to side, butchering through flesh as quickly as she could. Pain rang up her arm but she refused her body to feel it. Shafts of something struck her shoulder, but ignorance kept her focused. Her marching steps were like gongs, hammering across the room.
Ronan was still there, trying to kneel, searching for his weapon. And behind him, was a coiled predator, ready to strike with the aggression of tens of modern day wrestlers.
She needed one, one clean strike to put him out of immediate danger and have he owe her a favour he would have nightmares about repaying.
Her body aligned with her machete, then she drew her arm back and–
Something hit her. Something that wasn't affected by her localised gravity, or something that could move through it with startling force. It bulled into her legs, tilting her world and shattering the alignment. As she crashed into the metal floor, she didn't let the room feel relief.
If she did, Ronan would not live another second. She gritted her teeth and poured more spirit into the air. But sadly, it wasn't long until she ran dry.
The predator closed the final hitch between it and Ronan's head. Her breath tightened, but she failed to stand.
Then a boom sounded, not loud, but heavy. In a fraction of a second, heat rose a degree up, then two, then three.
Her vision swam before she could look to understand what happened. Was that the sound of Ronan's head being decapitated?
She wasn't sure, but she felt the shift.
Then everything moved again.