Page 66 of Black and Brown

Mirage stumbled behind him as he continued to duck and dodge the unstoppable serpent.

“Break away from me,” he said to Mirage in a fractured voice.

“No,” his partner hissed, but Grace could feel how hard Mirage was working to defend against his own attacker.

They were already out of formation, his shadow being blocked by another object and fading away.

The only way to give these experts a real fight was to give each other room to maneuver and attack.

“Break, now,” Grace snarled before ripping himself from Mirage.

The separation felt like the equivalent of his skin being split open and his spine ripped out of his back. He felt like half a man, as if the better part of him had been torn away.

They began to trade vicious blows with their opponents. Kicks and punches at vulnerable body parts echoed like lightning striking concrete.

Grace’s attacker was bigger, more solid, and taller, but his footsteps were light.

It only took a few seconds for Grace to adapt to the ninja’s fighting style, which appeared ancient and animalistic.

The man had incomprehensible strength and a relentless spirit. He attacked as if he didn’t want to kill him but wound him enough to eliminate him as an obstacle to his mission.

Grace spun around the man’s back and landed a hard elbow to his jaw, then aimed another toward his temple, but his rival crouched low, made his hands resemble talons, and swiped at Grace’s thigh.

He leapt back just enough to avoid the fingers connecting with his skin, but it left four even tears through his thick cargo pants and shallow gashes in his thigh.

Dammit.

Grace didn’t spare his injury a glance. He was strong enough that the pain was nonexistent.

He ran and kicked off the wall, using the momentum to come down with a punch to the side of his challenger’s neck.

His hit was close but unsuccessful as the bastard spun out, crouched again, and flexed his hands.

If Grace let those fingers connect to his body, they’d tear clear to the bone.

During his spin, the man’s scarf unraveled and fell, revealing a waist-length golden mane.

Spectre was finally able to get through to them on comms, “Grace, what’s your status? I can’t get a visual on you.”

Grace stole a glance at Mirage and read his concern. They were in their first losing battle.

“Get me the Blacks,” Grace rumbled.

Meridian owed Grace, and he better fucking pay up.

“Hard copy,” Spectre responded.

Their line went silent for another delay.

He and Mirage were now fighting for their lives. If they sustained specific injuries, despite their enhanced abilities, they might not recover.

While Grace was maneuvering to obtain a better vantage point, he caught a glimpse of Mirage.

His partner had to leap backward in the air to avoid the fighter with gleaming eyes.

The moment Mirage landed, he had to flip again as the ninja wound his body across the floor in a complex, elegant sidewinder’s dance with his hands poised to resemble the tips of a spear.

Mirage did a spin kick that connected to the man’s chest, but he still took a hard strike at a pressure point above his ankle.