AN: Fight scene! W00T! Ahem... To answer slime frog, coconuts do migrate. Kel informed me of this, and I call her a fun-sucker... Then she calls me an idiot... which is true... In any case, each chapter will now include a statement made by Kel, myself, or our equally weird friends. Enjoy.

"Well would you look at that, it's Air Force One…" -Kel, when Air Force One flew over her school during a Social Studies test.

It lunged at her, fingers apart and ready to grab her throat.

Kim had been in that situation before (best not to ask, trust me on this one), and didn't hesitate. She waited until the last moment, and stepped slightly aside, extending her arm. She caught it by the neck of its robe with her hand, jerking it around to face her. She subconsciously sized it up. Taller that her, but with the same basic build. Thin with long legs.

The attacker quickly recovered and made another grab for her throat. The Canadian quickly grabbed the back of its hand with her right. The hand itself was bigger, but Kim's fingers were longer and stronger, and knew where to go. She forced its fingers into a fist, pressing down hard on the nails.

It howled like a wounded animal and tore its hand out of her grip, nearly snapping the girl's fingers. She tried for a punch in the face with her other hand, but it only brought her pain as she hit the wooden mask. It twirled around, catching her in the stomach with a right hook.

Kim stumbled backwards, but forced herself to keep eye contact with her enemy. Fortunately for her, it had hit her not directly in the soft part of her stomach, but on one of the areas with more muscle, meaning there wasn't as good a chance of internal bleeding.

While she was recovering, it saw its window of opportunity. It lunged, missing its target as she leapt backwards but managing to catch her across the face with its long nails and pushing hard enough to knock her to the ground.

She looked up just in time to see the forest thing jump towards her, planning to land on top of her. More out of instinct than skill, she pushed herself onto her back with her hands and brought her knees up to her chest with the soles of her feet skyward. As the attacker came down, she kicked. Hard. She caught it in the stomach and followed through. It flew through the air, landing in a groaning pile on the ground. Kim somersaulted forward, coming into a squatting position and steadying herself with her left palm on the ground.

Kim drew in several deep breaths, trying to regain some of the colour in her face. "Tricky sunnava bas'ard's bitch," she muttered to herself faintly, her voice thick with a Newfoundland accent. "Da by' bloddy well near kicked me gizzards out tru me back…"

She rose shakily, and then realized something. She couldn't hear the groaning anymore. She whipped around to where the attacker had landed. It wasn't there.


This profanity was fated never to be finished. It tackled her from behind, shoving her face into the dirt and pinning down her right arm but leaving her left free. It made sense. After all, wouldn't she have used her weaker hand to catch it and her stronger to attack? Unfortunately it for it, webs and oddly shaped eyes weren't the only inherent traits the Holmes family tree had to offer. Among the assorted genes, the good, the bad and the ugly, lay one that made its bearers ambidextrous.

Kim reached up and dug her nails into the bare flesh of the attacker's wrist, and although her nails weren't nearly as long as its were, they were long enough to make it hurt. It snarled, releasing her head. Another bad move. Obviously it didn't know it was up against Kim Holmes. She turned her neck and sunk her teeth into the arm pinning down her right.

It screeched like a banshee, and hit her in the cheekbone with the back of its other arm. She kept her jaw locked, sinking in deeper. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, but she held fast.

The masked one pushed its arm in towards Kim's mouth, forcing her to release it. It grabbed her by the neck and flung her across the ground, and her skull narrowly missed a tree. She managed to land on her side, minimizing the damage. Her sweater came loose, and fell off onto the ground. It lunged at her, and she caught it and, using its own momentum, managed to roll it over so that she was on top of it.

Just like wrestling on the basement floor over which Cats character is better… she tried to tell herself as she blinked against the pain spreading through her body. Just like wrestling with Cyril and Matt and Dana…

she tried to tell herself as she blinked against the pain spreading through her body.

It whipped its head back, and only a quick dodge saved Kim from a broken neck. It was struggling, and she couldn't hold it much longer. She couldn't grapple with it.

It was stronger than she was.

This realization didn't bring despair, because she knew it didn't mean she had lost. It just meant that she needed to find another way to beat it. Many people stronger than she had been bloodied at her fist, simply because they were dumber than she was.

Kim leapt to her feet and backwards, keeping a close eye on it while it staggered to its feet. It was weakening, but the girl wasn't feeling all that hot herself. It was simply a matter of who cried "Give!" first.

Just like wrestling in the basement… Deuteronomy's better than Skimbleshanks, Coricopat's hotter than Alonzo, and I'm better than this thing is…

It broke free and flew at her, arms outstretched. That was it! It's main weapon was its hands, it didn't attack often with its feet, meaning it might be weak point. But while Kim was planning an attack, the masked warrior grabbed her by the throat, hoisting her up off of her feet.

A gurgling sound emerged from her mouth as she tried to pry its hands away to no avail. It desperation, she kicked out and caught it solidly in the ribcage. It gave a moan of pain, but still kept a hold on her. She kicked again, harder this time, and in almost the same place as the first time. It released her, and she landed on her feet and lunged without missing a beat.

She landed a punch with her right in the direct spot she had been kicking, and drove in. If the ribs weren't broken before, they were now. A low moan escaped from it, as it gasped for breath, Kim saw her chance. She grabbed its shoulder with her right hand, the front of its robe with her left, and used her right leg to knee it hard between the legs.

Nothing… No response, other than a slight gasp, which might have been because of its ribcage. Kim concluded something. Her enemy was either female or not even remotely human.

It (as Kim was willing to accept that it could be some other species with its… regions… somewhere else) snarled, and pounced. It grabbed her shoulders, knocking her to the ground and forward. Kim kicked again, her legs being stronger than her arms, and it retreated momentarily.

Her hand aimlessly sprawled out, and it touched fabric. Her sweatshirt. An idea popped into her head, and she quickly located a small, yet somewhat heavy, stick from the forest floor. It was stupid, to be sure, but just maybe stupid enough to work.

The thing was quickly approaching, but her fingers worked fast under the pressure. She knotted one sleeve around the middle of the stick, and took a grip on the opposite sleeve, getting quickly to her feet. At this point, she felt the need to say something. After all, snappy dialogue was the key to any action star. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, no matter how cliché.

"Try me, bitch."

Kim was unsure if it understood her, or even heard her, but it charged towards her. She was ready, however. She swung her sweatshirt around, and the stick acted as a weight and a hook, swinging around its neck and around again. She grabbed it with her other hand, and pulled.

A gasping sound came out from behind the mask, but she didn't let up. She slowly lowered it to the ground, its face to the dirt. She placed her knee in its back, and transferred the sleeve and stick into her right, and grabbed a nearby heavy stick with her left. She swung hard, and it connected with its head with a dull thunk. It dropped, twitched several times, and didn't move again.

The girl made sure than it was truly unconscious with a few swift kicks to the ribs, and then rose. She did, however, keep her improvised weapon around its neck and close to her hand. The next step was to tie it up. But with what?

She rifled through the deep pockets of her jeans, looking for something. Anything. After her shower back at her house, she had shoved everything from her dirtied jeans into the clean ones, just in case.

Some loose change, no good. The hippogriff feather, useless. Several plastic baggies and a spool of thin copper craft wire, nope. That had been for an experiment (to use a gentle term) she and a few friends had been planning to perform during lunch hour until a teacher found out and confiscated the key elements of it. To spare the details so that no one should be tempted to try this at home, let's just a few other items involved were some batteries and two bottles of lemon juice.

Inhaler… This she drew out and took a few breathes of before returning it. Cat's Cradle string, not strong enough. Roll of hockey tape, maybe. Hockey tape, for those who don't know, was like the little brother of duct tape. It could be used for almost anything, from fixing windows to be used as a puck, even a temporary substitute for stitches in a pinch.

Finally, her fingers found something. A thick piece of strong denim. She had gotten it in the Family Studies room, she had been using it to try to choke Cyril. It was as wide as a handkerchief, and twice as long. She drew it out, and held it in her teeth as she dragged the unconscious attacker against a tree. Kim tied its wrists behind its back and around the trunk, using a knot her father had taught her. After a quick check for any weapons it might be carrying, she sat back to take a well-deserved breather.

Feeling her face with her hands, she found multiple cuts and bruises. Not the worst she had gotten in her life, not by far. She'd live. Kim placed a hand to her mouth and drew it away to see blood. Not her own. Not exactly knowing what she was doing, she dipped three fingers in it and made warrior stripes on her face.

Cliché? Definitely. But it made her feel better.

Butler and Juliet came back that way eventually, having failed to catch what they had been chasing and neither being happy about it. It had just rounded a corner and disappeared…

Both stopped when they saw Kim, sitting beside the bloody masked warrior.

Looking up, she grinned wearily, her blue eyes holding a mischievous glint.

"Honestly, you two. Two professionals, masterfully trained in the deadly arts of whatever, and it's the thirteen-year-old civilian who bags the bad guy."