Di's Hideout

As soon as he was asleep, she left, locking up behind her with ancient Elvish magics. Nobody would be getting in. She jumped out the window she had come in and walked off...

Daemon shattered the seal with his sword and walked down into the basement. How easy this would be, he thought with a laugh.

Connan awoke, instincts rousing him from unconsciousness.

Seeing the newcomer, he muttered "Oh fuck me, not again."

"So he wakes up," said Daemon with a laugh, "come, weakling; take me on."

Connan closed his eyes.

"I told the girl, and I'll say it to you. Go fuck yourself; I'm having a nap."

"I don't know why she wouldn't kill you like I told her," he said with a sigh, "but I'm going to make that nap eternal."

He took a few steps forward.

Connan didn't open his eyes; instead he shrugged.

"Whether you kill me or not, I'm taking a nap. I have seven broken bones, internal bleeding, a few muscles have been severed, the nerve ending in my left shoulder is raw, I have a few bullet wounds and acute blood loss, and I told that bitch to kill me. I doubt I could stand up, let alone fight you, and to tell you the truth, I can't be bothered even if I could. So kill me if you want, and for the second and final time, go fuck yourself, blood sucker. Dead or alive, I've got better things to do than be dealing with you."

He took a few steps forward and put his sword to the human's throat.

"Well then, mortal, you do Di dishonour," he said simply, "for I am sure she would have fought for your life."

Connan opened his eyes. "Honor is nothing; it's air, worthless. I have more business with the dead than I do with the living anyway; I'm in practice a dead man myself. Still..."

Pushing the sword away, he kissed his cross, and muttered "Domine Iesu; for the blood I've spilled... and for the blood I'm about to spill."

From under the blanket, he rammed a knife into Daemon's stomach, and rolled off the bed before the vampire had a chance to slit his throat.

Daemon blinked and pulled the knife out.

"So you try to fight your fate," he said, throwing the knife at Connan, "good luck to you."

Connan laughed, dodging it and catching the hilt.

"My fate? I'm a dead man. I just wanted you to shut up."

"Well then," he said, "let me finish this."

He jumped over the bed, slashing downwards at Connan's shoulder, with the intent to cut him almost in half.

Connan held the dagger up, catching the cut and stopping the weight; the vampire was stronger, so the blade still cut into his shoulder, but the wound wasn't critical. Knowing that the vampire would be concentrating, and would not have expected him to be as fast in getting the dagger up, Connan kicked behind Daemon's knees, forcing him to then. Punching the vampire in the face, he rolled away and stood uneasily.

Daemon spat and stood up.

"Still have some fight left in you?"

He laughed and charged Connan again.

"I'll take that away and everything else you have."

Connan laughed, manic again.

Knifing the vampire's hand as he got close, and deflecting it from himself, Connan and the vampire were face to face. His spare hand, Connan gripped Daemon's throat, and growling, said,

"I have nothing, and nothing to lose. I'm simply fighting to annoy, as I was with your girl. I fucking told her to kill me; you finish me off, and I'll think of it as a favor."

"Then just let me," he said, striking for Connan's throat.

Each gripping the other's throat, Connan grinned.

"That'd be too easy."

Daemon began to squeeze.

"There's no more fighting to be done, wretch."

Connan spat at him.

Then headbutted him, gripping Daemon's throat harder. Headbutting him again, Connan grinned. He'd probably just broken the vampire's nose.

"You sure?"

Then he kneed the guy in the groin.

"Because I think I disagree."

Daemon fell to his knees and brought his sword up with one hand.

"You cannot win," he said, "there is none equal to me; even she has fallen to my power, chained to secrecy."

Connan dived, but the blade still caught him, slicing from waist to armpit on his right side.

"I already told you I don't give a fuck about winning; one of us is going to die, and it's almost certainly going to be me."

"Then why not make this quicker by just giving in?" he asked, slashing for Connan's throat this time.

Connan blocked it with his arm, catching the blade on the flat, receiving a mark that would bruise and a shallow cut. In turn, he kicked at the vampire's skull.

"I don't like myself, or you for that matter, nearly well enough for that."

Daemon jumped out of the way of the kick and again slashed, aiming for the stomach this time.

The strike hit him, not full on, but enough to pierce. The wound might be fatal, if neglected. Connan yelled, pain firing to it, aggravated by the internal bleeding sustained in his fight with Di. Blood bubbled to his lips, and he spat it at Daemon.

Falling back, he grasped at the knife from earlier, blood on his fingers making the grip difficult. He didn't have enough stamina for another long fight, especially not with the medication in his blood slowing him down.

Sweating, and shaking it out of his eyes, blood sprayed from his mouth. Maybe the wound was greater than he'd imagined.