Exton

I shrug out of my sleeveless tee, lay it aside. Guunnar is big, burly, the kind of picture people see when they think "Viking". If he ever gets those arms around me, I might as well give it up.

On the other hand, I'm going to have to be careful to control my rage. I don't want to really hurt him, and I can do that, whether I win or lose.

We circle each other warily, looking for an opening. I can tell already that he's not slow and lumbering. I wonder what else I'll learn tonight....

Guunnar feints, then pulls back as I dodge. We circle some more and he tries the same move again. This time I grab his wrist and twist his arm up behind his back.

Bad move.

He casually breaks my hold and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, I tuck and roll and I'm back on my feet before he can follow up his advantage.

Guunnar wears a predatory smile as he stalks me across the roof. I've seen that look before, on Wolf and Tiger. It doesn't make me feel any more confident.

I move in quickly, grappling with him and using a leg sweep to try and topple him. I might as well have tried to topple Herne's Oak. He reverses the sweep and suddenly I'm on my back.

He pounces, but I'm not there anymore. I jump on his back and get an arm around his throat, trying for a choke-hold. He doesn't even try to break it, just fights his way back to his feet with me clinging like a limpet.

He throws me easily - a trifle too easily, since that's what I was expecting, and I'm ready for it. I land solidly and launch an honest-to-Captain-Kirk drop-kick which lands solidly in the middle of his chest. It staggers the big man, but he doesn't go down.

What the fuck is this guy made of?

I try for the leg sweep again. It works too well; I have to roll away to keep from getting crushed when Guunnar falls.

I wait for him to regain his feet - which he does, just a bit wobbly - then I hit him just under the knees with a flying tackle. Before he can get up, I lock both legs around his bull's neck, my hands squeezing his throat, my little fingers clenched into iron-hard balls grinding into his carotid artery.


If this doesn't work, I am so fucked….

He reaches for me to pull me off again, but my skin is slick with sweat and my legs are locked tight. I made a mistake when this all began; I tried to keep from hurting him.

It's not a mistake I'll repeat.

Anyone else would have dropped like a chainsawed tree, but not Guunnar. Incredibly, he starts to laugh. It's weak, but he shouldn't be able to breathe, far less laugh. He stops trying to grab me and slowly goes to his knees.

I keep the pressure on for another thirty seconds, then release him. He comes to his feet again, as quick and as supple as a snake. He reaches out and takes my hand - hell, my whole arm - in a Roman handshake.

"Ho! I like you, little man. You give good fight."

I grin weakly. I've just fought a guy the size of the Statue of Liberty and I'm walking away with all my parts intact. Feels pretty damn good.

Back in the bar, I buy him another Belgian beer and talk to Monty about ordering some genuine mead for the next time Guunnar shows up. Monty grins and rolls his eyes, but agrees to place the order.