Free Sigma Curse - 04 by Tim Stevens Page B

do this?” he said.
    The two men separated as they drew near, so that by the time they drew level with Venn they were ten feet apart. It was a classic two-on-one strategy, forcing their opponent to cover two sides at once, something that was almost impossible to do.
    Venn could have moved in first, taking down Craddock forcibly enough that it might give Austin serious pause. In most circumstances he would have done exactly that. But right now, he needed one of them to land the first blow. Needed whatever he did to be in legitimate self-defense, with no room for misinterpretation.
    Austin, to Venn’s left, moved first, something that vaguely surprised Venn. The smaller man charged in at a stoop, lashing his booted foot out at venn’s knee. Venn stepped aside, feeling the toe-tip brush the material of his trousers, and continued the movement so that its momentum helped swing his right fist toward Austin’s face. The other man was fast, and jerked his head aside.
    At the same time Craddock, heavier and slower, lunged at Venn, cannoning into his torso like a quarterback tackling high. Although he’d tensed his muscles in anticipation, Venn felt the breath knocked out of him as the younger man’s bulk slammed against him. He stumbled back a couple of steps until he was brought up hard against the side of a pickup truck.
    Venn whipped one arm down around Craddock’s neck and gripped his wrist in his other hand, getting the other man in a headlock. Craddock tried twisting his head free but Venn hung on, squeezing tighter, even as Craddock’s weight bore down on him, pinning him against the truck.
    Austin jabbed a knuckly half-fist toward Venn’s throat. Venn dodged, but not fast enough to avoid the blow completely, and he felt stars explode before his eyes and a sheaf of pain blast through his head. He let go his own wrist and used his free hand to hammer against Craddock’s ear. The man howled and brought a hand up to his ear, but Venn was waiting for that and grabbed the hand and bent the little finger back, not stopping when he felt resistance but continuing until an audible snap cut the air like a trodden-on twig.
    Craddock’s weight lifted slightly from Venn and he brought a knee up, hard, connecting with the man’s belly just underneath his breastbone. Craddock staggered backward and Venn followed up with a second kick, right in the middle of the soldier’s belly. Craddock doubled over, an ooof escaping his lips. As he went down, Venn booted him in the face, pulling the kick at the last moment so as not to cause severe damage. He felt the man’s nose break and spread.
    Austin was on him already, his blows swift and varied and professional, and Venn parried and dodged and rocked at the crashes of agony where the fists caught his face and chest. He staggered back against the truck, exaggerating the movement, but Austin was too skilled a fighter to be fooled and he pressed home his advantage, lashing out once more with his boot and this time almost, almost, connecting with Venn’s knee, a crippling blow if it had landed.
    Venn darted aside, putting a few feet between him and Austin, and held up his hands.
    “Wait,” he said. “Wait.”
    He dropped his hands, poked Craddock with the tip of his boot.
    “He’s down,” he said. “I’ve got no beef with you.”
    For an instant, Austin looked down at his fallen comrade.
    It was a mistake.
    Venn wasn’t as fast as Austin. But he was taller, and his reach was longer. He used this to its full effect, leaping forward on his long legs and punching with his long arm, covering the distance between them before Austin had a chance to step aside and bring his own arms up.
    Venn’s fist caught Austin square in the mouth, flattening his lips against his teeth and rocking his head backward like a puppet’s. He was lifted off his feet, to land heavily on the asphalt on his ass. Somehow, he managed to keep his head up so that it didn’t bang on the hard surface, but from the