Panic

As he rounded the corner and caught up to the others, he got to his feet, shaking slightly as he leaned against the wall, and caught his breath. Mary and Jerome stood a few feet away on the other side of the corridor, their breathing a little more controlled than his, but still audible above the noise of the rain outside. He heard footsteps approach from behind them, muffled by the thick carpet but still clear enough. A floorboard creaked, and then there was silence.

A small metallic object rolled into view, hitting the back wall with a soft thump. After a few seconds, smoke began to pour from it, curling upwards and quickly plunging the corridor into a choking cloud. Eyes stinging, Leopold stumbled forward and felt around with his arms outstretched, trying to catch hold of Jerome or Mary as he heard movement ahead.

He felt his breath knocked out of him as something hard co

Leopold looked up, slightly dazed from the smoke and the impact of the fall, and looked around, trying to gauge his surroundings. He was lying on the floor of what looked like a study, but the lack of light made it difficult to tell. Thanks to the faint glow of the street lamps outside the window, he could just about make out a few tall book cases and a large desk, complete with an ornate high back chair that looked like it was worth a small fortune. Other than the coffee table he had just slammed into, the room was empty and, as far as he could tell, had only one door. There was no way out.

Leopold sucked in a deep breath and got to his knees as a shadow approached from outside the room. In the doorway stood one of Stark’s men, surrounded by billowing smoke and wearing a gas mask. In the gloom he looked like a demon walking straight out of hell. Leopold blinked hard, getting the last of the smoke out of his eyes, and got to his feet.

The figure approached slowly, then stopped and pulled off his mask, revealing a maniacal grin and pockmarked face, visible even in the dim light. He stood at least a head taller than Leopold, who recognized the man’s features immediately: Viktor, the unit commander who reported directly to Stark. Leopold clenched his fists and stood ready.

Viktor tossed his weapon onto the floor and cracked his knuckles. Leopold didn’t wait for an invitation. He rushed forward and aimed a blow at the enormous man’s side, co

As the last reserves of his strength began to fade away, Leopold noticed the rims of his vision begin to darken, a vignette of red that signaled his optic nerves were begi

Suddenly a cold rush of air flooded Leopold’s throat and into his lungs. The relief was extraordinary. His vision sharpened again and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears faded. He looked with curiosity at the man who wanted to kill him.

“I don’t want you passing out too early,” said Viktor.

Leopold couldn’t speak, his throat was too swollen and raw. He looked into Viktor’s eyes. They were small and black, but he could just make out a fleck of silver around the iris. It gave Viktor a bestial look, like some kind of creature that could see in the dark. Like a hunter. Leopold knew he wouldn’t get another chance. As the feeling came back into his limbs, he felt his hands tingle behind his back and he began to unfasten the clasp of his watch.

“What’s the matter? Nothing to say?” Viktor continued, pulling him closer. “Don’t you have some clever plan to get you out of this one?”

Leopold sucked in another lungful of air and felt the throbbing in his throat ease a little. He managed a raspy whisper in response.

“What did you say?” said Viktor.

Leopold opened his mouth to repeat himself. “I said, I might have something up my sleeve.”

The commander gri

The chunky watch acted like a set of brass knuckles, adding considerable force to his blow by concentrating the energy of the punch onto a smaller, harder surface area. As his fist co

Leopold attacked again, but the giant soldier anticipated the move and blocked his attack without much effort. He whipped around, using his bulk to prevent escape, and lashed out with his right fist, catching Leopold in the solar plexus and knocking the wind out of him for a second time. He hit the floor hard, the impact painful enough to make him cry out as the thrumming pain in his knuckles reached a crescendo.

Leopold felt himself lifted to his feet again, as Viktor hoisted him off the ground. His vision swam as his opponent pulled him in close, his breath hot on Leopold’s face. He attacked with his good hand, too fast for Viktor to block, and slammed his palm into the sneering commander’s nose, crushing the cartilage. He wrenched himself free of his opponent’s faltering grip and kicked out at his legs, hoping to catch the weak spot behind the knee.

Viktor must have anticipated the move. Instead of co

The shelves rocked unsteadily from the collision as Leopold shook his head and cleared his vision. His attacker advanced, surprisingly quick for his size, and brought down his heavy right boot, aiming for the face. In desperation, Leopold reached up above his head and fumbled for something he could use to protect himself. His hands grasped hold of something thick and heavy, and he whipped it forward to block Viktor’s blow.

The soldier’s foot co