ten_fwd | three \\ locked to kirk first, open after

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three \\ locked to kirk first, open after

There was no true day and night on the Enterprise, no sun to regulate the natural cycles of light and dark, but starships had long done their best to overcome this. Gamma shift was quiet - the lights dimmer, the noises muted as most of the crew slept. It was an ideal time to wander the ship.

Khan had given his escorts the slip ten minutes before - by now, they were used to his little games. He'd pace circles around them in the corridors, note their confusion and irritation, and eventually allow them to catch up thirty or forty minutes later, as though nothing had happened at all.

Childish, perhaps, but they'd become remarkably complacent remarkably fast. This way was, at least, some small reminder that he wasn't bound by them.

But it wasn't to last. Rounding a corner, Khan was abruptly drawn up short by the bright shock of gold in his vision - a very familiar gold, and the slow, sudden fury that burned under his skin.

"You."

The face was the same, the stride, the stance. Standing in front of him, as easily as he pleased, was one James Tiberius Kirk.

[ The first portion of this is locked to

daredtodobetter, but anyone is welcome to come along after their fight and watch/call security/popcorn.gif/etc! ]

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Jim couldn't sleep. He wasn't used to this ship, the sounds, the vibrations, the gentle hums, and it was driving him mad. That and being separated from his crew and ship. They were just starting out on their five year mission.

He didn't need to be here, stranded in the future.

He'd spoken with Admiral Pike only a handful of days before. He knew Khan was on board this ship, with a permanent security shadow (two people, yeah that'll do all of nothing), and close tabs kept on him. He had been lucky enough to have avoided him so far.

And apparently that luck had just run out.

He could never forget that voice. It's burned in his mind like Marcus'. Like Kodos. He tenses as soon as he hears it, reaching for the communicator on his hip. The step he takes back isn't in fear, but more in the interest of self-preservation. He's gone toe to toe with him before.

It didn't end well.

"Khan." Jesus, he's supposed to have a security detail. He told Pike that two people weren't enough. He said it.

"Take it easy."

Something primal in Khan was pleased at the step back, the cautious hand to the comm - Kirk was afraid. Good. He should be, because Khan was bristling at the captain's words like an angry cat - an angry cat that could crush people's skulls with his bare hands.

"You forget yourself, captain," came the words, growled out as Khan stalked forward. "You don't order me."

He was through with Starfleet orders, with their captains and admirals and their false, sanctimonious morality. They were too cowardly to admit their fears and their lust for war to the public, so they skulked around the shadows, letting their shadow division do the work for them. And this man, this captain, was the shining evidence of it all, as much a pawn as the rest of his crew.

Jim may have given one, but that's all he's giving him. He's less afraid than wary. He knows what he's capable of. He's seen it in person and up close.

"I'm not trying to. I'm trying to stop something incredibly stupid from happening. What do you think is going to happen if you attack me here?"

He doesn't give him more ground as he stalks forward, and unclips the communicator. He imagines Khan still wouldn't believe that not all of Starfleet was in on it. Not everyone wanted war and the horrors that came with it. Their mandate was a peaceful one, one Jim still held to even if it felt like the shadows were overrunning his position.

He'll agree that he was used. Hell, he'll go so far as to say a pawn because Marcus banked on his anger at Khan for murdering Pike in cold blood. For taking the only person Jim had ever looked on as a father away from him.

Khan closes the distance between them, only halting just out of reach. His gaze rests, briefly, on the communicator in Kirk's hand, but it's not nearly enough to to dissaude him. Not now. He could tear through this ship's pathetic security in less time than it would take them to alert the rest of the ship.

"I think we both know what would happen." They had, after all, played this game before - on the bridge of the Vengeance. Kirk hadn't fared so well.

(But in the end, neither had Khan.)

Jim stays where he is, shoulders squared, chin tilted up, and defiant to Khan's approach. If one thing can be said about Jim Kirk before he ever joined Starfleet, is that he has a problem knowing when to back down. As a captain, he's learned when to concede, and it was a painstaking lesson taught by Admiral Marcus when he nearly destroyed the Enterprise.

As a person? Well, he's still got a hell of a lot of room to grow.

He knows how dangerous Khan is. He tried to tell them. Apparently no one on this damn ship listens. His First Officer said that there was history, here, in this universe, of how dangerous the man was. The most dangerous adversary that the Enterprise ever faced, and Jim is having a hell of a time dealing with the fact that they still let him roam around as easy as he pleases.

"I think you're giving yourself a little more credit than usual. Things aren't exactly the same as they were on my ship the first time." Or on the Vengeance. And Jim may not have fared well the first time, but like hell is he going to let this maniac put lives at risk.

"I think you should find the security detail you slipped."

Ah. Kirk's been briefed already, as he'd suspected. Khan closes his eyes, shakes his head in obvious disapproval. "Come now, captain," he replies, laying the condecension on thickly, "you know as well as I do that a two-man security detail has no hope of controlling me."

They're there to sooth the ego of this ship's captain, and nothing more. Khan is not safe, not contained, and certainly not beholden to anyone on this ship. It's time they remembered that.

"Besides, you seem to be laboring under the impression that they'll be catching up at all."

He lets the implication hang in the air. The men are fine - but Kirk doesn't know that, and right now Khan wants nothing more than to goad the other man into action. It doesn't take much, he's found.

God, his condescension and never-ending superiority complex gets under his skin. It takes a lot of self-restraint to not bite out a comment. To not hiss in annoyance at him.

"Oh, I do. Which is probably why I mentioned them bulking it up. I'm sure you wouldn't object."

He wonders what could be in the captain of this ship's head that he's ignoring historical fact in order to what? Be considerate of a psychopath's feelings? Bit of an oxymoron, that.

"I hope for your sake they will be. I can't imagine Picard will like finding any of his people incapacitated." Still giving the air of a benefit of the doubt. If he hoped for an attack, physical at the least, Jim won't be goaded into that. Not yet.

As far as he knows, he's currently the only one threatened at the moment. But it doesn't mean he can let this stand. Khan is dangerous. Security needs to know. It's a stupid risk, he knows he isn't fast enough if Khan has a mind to stop him, and he's sure he'll object to going back under armed guard.

He unhooks his communicator, flipping it open, it's cheerful little noise belying the situation: "Kirk to Bridge, Khan Singh is---" Goddammit. This isn't his ship, if he'd wandered wherever on his own he'd still know what deck he was on and in what section. He doesn't know this ship. They have to have internal sensors. Maybe they can pick him up that way.

"---at my location without his security escort their status is unknown. Assistance required."

Before the words are even fully out of Kirk's mouth, Khan is moving. He's fast, faster than anyone has the right to be, and worse: he's strong. The grip that lands on Kirk's wrist is crushing as the Augment closes the distance between them, fully intending to crush the communicator completely.

"Poor choice, captain," he growls and, striving to make his point abundantly clear, lashes out with one well-aimed blow to Kirk's stomach. If the man wants a fight, Khan will be happy to give him one - but he's not going back under guard. Not again. He'll tear the ship and her crew apart, if he has to, but he won't submit meekly to confinement.

Damn, he'd forgotten how fast he was in person. Up close and personal cause that's what this is, isn't it? It's personal. He grunts in pain, trying to twist his wrist out of the sudden grip like a vice around it, but refuses to drop the communicator.

The punch lands and he doubles over, coughing as the wind gets mostly knocked out of him. It doesn't hurt quite like it did on the Vengeance, being pummeled half-senseless after being tackled over the helm, but he chalks that up to adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, giving a half-growl of anger as he does. He wasn't looking for a fight, but fine.

He doesn't try to stand, instead launches himself at Khan's middle with a yell, and tries to tackle him to the deck, despite the grip still held on his wrist.

"Yeah? Well, those happen to be something I excel at. What's your excuse?"

Now that the fight is on, the Augment is eerily quiet. He doesn't bother to respond to Kirk's taunt, and instead moves with vicious, calculated precision - every inch the predator he was created to be, even as Kirk dives towards him.

Augmented strength can't stop physics, however; the lunge sends both of them down to the decking in a sprawled, growling pile, and Khan loses his grip on Kirk's wrist. There's a moment where his brow crinkles - he doesn't recall Kirk being quite that strong - but it's quickly erased. Teeth bared in a snarl, he brings his knee up hard, fully intending to put some space between them.

This is good. Aggression burns under his skin, a perpetual itch that the holosuit projections do nothing to thwart. But this, a live opponent, someone he knows, someone he has a reason to fight - it's almost a relief to indulge in.

Jim sprawls atop him for a moment, though once he feels his wrist be released, he was going to try and roll up to his feet, but Khan is faster. His knee meets his side, and it throws him off. He skids across the deck briefly, back hitting the nearest bulkhead with a grunt and finds himself giving a growl of frustration himself.

He scrambles up, though not all of the way, more in a crouch as he watches the Augment. His eyes are half-wild, reminiscent of the man that attacked him on the Klingon homeworld and not the Captain who would throw himself headlong into a warp core to save his ship.

"Come on, I thought you were better."

Edited (words ugh sorry in a rush at work) 2015-04-01 14:25 (UTC)

Kirk is speaking, but Khan's not listening - not by the way he lunges at Kirk before the words are even fully out of the captain's mouth. Every movement is calculated, feral intensity - distinctly at odds with the Augment's usual cool disdain. At this moment, Khan is just as much the man he was on Qo'noS as Kirk is.

The bulkhead provides a nice, convenient surface for Khan to try and slam Kirk into, throwing his shoulder into the other man's stomach. Pin Kirk down, knock him out - and perhaps break a few bones for the sheer audacity - and this fight would be over.

He remembers seeing this ferocity firsthand on Qo'Nos, and then on the Vengeance. He remembers well how those altercations, however brief, ended. He won't go out like that. Not this time.

Jim's back hits the bulkhead, breath leaving him in a rush, and it feels as if the bulkhead gave way a little under the force. That has to be his imagination though, right? He doubles over briefly, at the shoulder to his stomach, and shifts, moving to bring an elbow down on Khan's back.

His next hit is aimed at his nose. He's hoping to break it, but he doubts he has enough force behind his own punch to break an Augment's bones. If it is enough to hurt at least it might make his eyes water, and give Jim time to regroup.

Khan takes the elbow to his back with little more than a grunt, intent on driving a fist into the captain's stomach, but Kirk's next blow blindsides him. There's a crack when his fist lands and a flare of pain, enough to force a grimace to Khan's face and a shake of his head.

He grits his teeth. On Qu'Nos he'd taken Kirk's hits with ease - they were little more than swats, really - but this? This was new. Stronger. And when Khan lifts his head, the smear of blood on his face and the growl in his throat make it very clear that he does not like it.

Jim is winded as he tries to gather his wits after he takes another hit to the stomach after being driven into the bulkhead. He hears the crack, sees Khan shake his head---in surprise maybe? He's not sure.

But then he looks up and Jim sees the small smear of blood from where he'd actually broken the other man's nose. Most would take that as a warning. Most would think shit, I fucked up hardcore. Jim isn't most people and he never will be. Maybe he never really grew out of genius-level repeat offender, cause he just stretches his fingers and clenches his fists again, chin tilted in utter defiance at the growl.

"Maybe you wanna call it now? Wouldn't wanna ruin that face."

Cause Jim never really did know how to shut up. Not even in a fight.

And just like that, Khan snaps. The savagery in his blood rises, the urge to break Kirk of his defiance taking over and driving him forward, relentless as an avalanche. Hands that have been bloodied a hundred times over find their way to Kirk's throat as he crushes the captain against the bulkhead.

And then, slowly and inexorably, he starts to squeeze.

It's chance that has Steve Rogers rounding the corner in time to see Khan's head snap back, blood fanning like crimson plumage down his face. He'd been trying one of the training programs on the holodeck (while he prefers the gym, it wasn't exactly built for a super soldier), so his shield is slung over his back in a leather satchel, cotton clothes loose and damp at each pulse point.

He pulls up to a halt, feet spread in a ready stance, a second passing before he moves in (eight feet forward at one o'clock, each opponent standing at six-feet tall, force disproportionate to body weight and build; the flick of Jim's chin, the look in Khan's eyes -- they're going to tear each other apart).

"Hey!" he shouts, shrugging his shield off and sliding it against the wall in one fluid motion as he propels forward. It stops about two feet shy of the scuffle, and Steve slings his arm around Khan's neck in a choke hold. "Let him down."

With an average opponent, Steve wouldn't have to tell him twice.

Khan, unfortunately for Steve, is far from an average opponent.

The shout from behind goes unheeded - Khan is rather busy, at the moment - but the second he feels an arm wind tight around his own throat, the instinctive, animal need to protect a vulnerable area takes over. He drops Kirk, a snarl ripping form his throat, and drives an elbow viciously backwards. The other hand reaches to clamp, inhumanly strong, on the arm around his throat.

He has no idea who this man is, nor does he care; all of Khan is running on feral instinct and decades of conditioning. The fight thrums in his veins, aggression boiling under his skin, in his genes. This is what he was built for, and if this intruder wants a fight? He'll give him one.

Jim's hands immediately go up at the ones that find their way around his throat. He wishes he could say this is the first time this has happened in his life. That someone far stronger than your average human has decided they wanted to choke the life out of him in anger. But no, Spock nearly throttled him over the helm of what is now his ship, and a Romulan on Nero's ship nearly managed it during their final battle with the Narada.

But Khan is different than they are. This is like going up against the solid face of a mountain. Against titanium. He manages a breath, one, before that grip is too tight to pull in another, but that defiance never wavers. It doesn't matter that he's choking, trying his damnedest to get the hands from around his neck, eyes watering and vision blurring already.

Jim Kirk has never been one for fear, once before crawling into a warp core did it overwhelm him enough to override everything else, and then he was a 13 year old boy exposed to horrors that would sicken most adults. He grits his teeth. He won't give Khan that satisfaction. Only then there's another person, trying to pull Khan off of him, but he can't make out what he's saying through the angry buzzing in his ears, but Khan drops him.

He coughs violently, sliding down the bulkhead as he tries to regain his bearings, and sucks in air. He's not sure who this guy is, but he can't imagine this is going to go well at all. Communicator. He needs his communicator.

The elbow to the gut is enough to knock the wind out of him, but it isn't until Khan grabs his arm that his grip slackens some -- and he realizes just what kind of power he's dealing with here.

He grits his teeth against the pain, choking back a grunt, and quickly recalibrates. Steve can take a beating as well as he can give one, but he's pushing down the adrenaline-fueled instinct to snap back as his tactical mind races through problems, strengths, weaknesses, and openings.

He twists in Khan's grip until his arm is bent behind him, the elbow of his free arm jabbing into Khan's kidney quick and cleanly. He doesn't stop moving until his back is to his opponent, using Khan's grip as leverage to grab his forearm and yank it over his shoulder until their bodies are flush, feet slamming into the bulkhead Jim's body vacated only seconds earlier to push them both back and away from Jim with enough force to send them skidding across the hall by several feet.

Once Jim's in the clear, Steve grunts: "You don't want to do this."

He'll only warn him once.

He needs space. Distance. Khan's thoughts run cleaner, quicker in combat, leaping effortlessly from one tactic to another as he allows instinct to guide him. Steve's words go unheeded. His strike draws a grunt of pain, but even that feels distant, because in this moment, nothing else matters but the fight. Even Kirk, scrambling away from the two of them, is all but forgotten.

Gritting his teeth, the Augment takes advantage of their position to drive a foot into the back of Steve's knee, wrenching his caught arm out of the other's man's grip. He has no interest in grappling, not right now - this is a man who, for just a few brief moments, is clearly not human. Not entirely. And as much as Khan relishes a real challenge, he intends to end this fight quickly.

His eyes are still watering, throat already feeling bruised, and head buzzing from the rapid switch between no air and air. Adrenaline has him continuing to move though, and once he gets his hands on his communicator he flips it open again.

His voice comes out as a raspy sound at first, Jim coughs again, reaching up to rub at his throat instinctively, and tries again.

"Kirk to Security. Assistance required at my location. Khan attacked me and is now engaged with an unknown. Assistance required."

God, how long did it take them on this ship? He's going to have words with someone about this.

Some guys just don't know when to stay down. Taking the hit with teeth gritted, Steve rolls away from Khan's powerful hands and flips to his feet, whirling back around with clean precision.

The other guy makes the call, and while all signs are pointing to Khan being the aggressor, Steve doesn't know either of them from Adam.

"Stay down!" he barks in Jim's direction, immediately advancing on Khan again. "This is going to get messy."

If he wants this fight done quickly, that's exactly what he's going to get. Steve figures he's probably not the kind of guy who's used to someone matching him blow for blow, but brute force isn't going to do the trick. Let's see how he does with mixed martial arts, and if he can just draw Khan's attention for another three seconds, Vibranium should finish the job.

Steve gets his three seconds, and more. Back on his feet, Khan moves with the fast, relentless pace of of a machine, but the blood on his face clearly marks him as a man. Fortunately, his combat education had been thorough, to say nothing of the brutality of it, and it would take far more than a sudden shift in style to throw him off.

Throwing a feint to Steve's left size, Khan draws in close for a strike when he hears Kirk's hoarse call over the comms. There's a growl in his throat, but he is beyond stopping the captain for now, engaged as he is. The aborted punch morphs cleanly into a strike at the not-augment's ribs - a blow that would nearly be lethal for any normal opponent.

Messy is definitely a word for it. Jim can tell they are nearly matched in strength and training. Khan's style is far more aggressive than Steve's, and Jim has seen what Khan can do once he gets his hands on somebody.

He's never going to be able to forget that sound. He's sure of it.

While he wants to help, he knows that he'd only be a liability if he tried to step in, and the better place for him at the moment is right there with his communicator. He'll wait until Security arrives. He just hopes Steve can hold out until then without anybody getting hurt too badly.

He doesn't have to worry about Steve. Most days on the ship, all he does is spend his time training when he's not making a complete hash out of being social. He doesn't tire, he doesn't distract easy, and even if his answering blows aren't sent with the same amount of brutality as Khan's they are enough to leave a mark.

It isn't until that growl rumbles out of Khan's throat that one of them gets the upper-hand. Steve lets his focus shift just slightly back to Jim. He's seen men with murder in their eyes before, and he knows what they can do. It's enough to fool him with that feint, right foot already stepping forward to block any attempts at the felled captain, and he takes the blow to his ribs with the full force Khan puts behind it.

It's enough to send him flying back, but maybe to Khan's despair, not enough to be lethal. Steve's no normal opponent.

It's not enough to disorient him, either. Once the shock of pain clears and his body skids to a stop against the far wall, he realizes his satchel is within reach. In one fast, fluid motion he thrusts his arm out, sends the leather flying free from his shield, and twists his full body into throwing it straight at Khan's body.

He doesn't even spare a second to see if the strike fell true before he's back on his feet, driving forward like a locomotive to catch his shield on the recoil and use it again if necessary.

The shield looks like a toy; brightly painted, fragile, and the way the artificial light plays off its surface give the impression that there's something not quite right about it. Khan would have scoffed, if he hadn't been too busy lunging forward to follow up his blow. His arm draws up to bat the shield aside - the only concession he makes towards to improvised weapon.

His mistake.

The disc strikes the augment with enough force to drive him back and down with a painfully hollow crack, leaving him to winded and struggling - the vibranium is the closest thing in the room to an immovable force, and Khan, for all his strength, is nowhere near an unstoppable force. The murder doesn't leave his eyes, but it's clear that the hit hurt; teeth grit and favoring his ribs, he manages to get his feet beneath him just in time to meet Steve's rebound head-on.

Jim is not expecting what happens next. Not in the slightest. The shield is thrown, hits Khan full on, a crack sounding out audibly in the passageway, and sends him down to the deck. His jaw drops just as the rebound sends him down while he struggles to try and get to his feet.

It takes a second for Jim's brain to catch up to what just happened, and very cautiously, he moves closer. He gives Khan a wide berth as he does, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the save."

Steve stands over Khan's prone figure, shield secured to his forearm, making sure he stays down. If it was made from any other material, the shield would no doubt still be ringing from the force of impact. It's not the cleanest way to fight, backhanding someone with the equivalent of a 2-ton weight when they're already down, but they dispensed with being gentleman a good while ago.

Steve is breathing heavy, jaw clenched and proud shoulders rising and falling rapidly, but otherwise he's suffering little fatigue. He glances toward Kirk's voice, hand moving out instinctively to keep him back before he notices he already is.

"Don't thank me just yet," he pants, and like clockwork a security detail emerges from the nearest turbolift and rushes down the hall. Steve figures they'll be bringing him in too, but his focus stays on Khan until he's sure he's completely subdued, and only then will he lower his shield, favoring his ribs with his free hand.

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