Boon of My Existence Ch. 03 of 03

In the whole of his life, he'd never challenged another of his kind. He was always the one being challenged, so this felt strange to him. It was also unpleasant. He did not like making the first move. It was not his nature, but he did, and so it had begun. The first blow was struck.

He had always felt that inner urge to battle their kind, but a greater part of him preferred peace and answers. All of their kind he'd ever met, or heard about, had always accepted their drive without question, but he always wondered why they had the drive to begin with. Why were they different from other humans? Were they even human, themselves? What drove them so fiercely to destroy each other?

Their kind were almost three times as strong as normal humans, they healed many times faster, and to add to it, they healed completely, every time. They have never been able to reproduce with normal humans or each other, not that he'd ever known any other of their kind wanting to bother having sex with each other, apart from himself and Kira. And what is perhaps the most unusual is that they do not get old.

He does not know when the first of his kind existed. He'd never met one who was more that a few hundred years old, which in itself was very rare, from what little he'd heard from others. They might live longer if they were not so compelled to kill one another.

He did run into a bit of luck a few years ago, however. He had decided to help a geneticist who was being threatened. He saw this as an opportunity to possibly have some research done, and it was a bittersweet bonus that, during that mission, he happened to meet up with another of his kind.

He was not happy that she naturally challenged him, but with her defeat, and some extensive explanation to the geneticist, they had a second test subject.

The geneticist, Dr. Lynn Thomas, could find no significant differences between the DNA of his kind and normal humans. Their genes were extraordinary, but still not beyond normal human capability. He was able to accept this, as far as their strength and perhaps healing abilities were concerned, but what, he wondered, about their inability to reproduce?

This was where he was fortunate to have been challenged by a female of his kind. Dr. Thomas harvested egg cells from the female and tested them, along with some sperm samples from him, then later both with egg and sperm samples of normal humans.

She found that the surface of both the egg and sperm of his kind were coated in an enzyme that acted like acid to normal human egg and sperm, literally eating away at them. When the when his sperm and his captive's egg met, they both immediately ruptured.

He supposed it was quite fitting, and just as well. In the event that two of their kind ever did produce another of their own, it's likely they would wind up killing it anyway.

Dr. Thomas was fascinated by all of it, and was eager to run numerous tests. She was also extremely disappointed that she could not reveal any of it to her colleagues, or anyone else in the world but him. Despite all of that, she still recognized the potential for it to possibly aid her in her own normal research.

Over the course of two and a half weeks, she had taken samples from every part of his anatomy she could list, and began to study those samples. At his request, she focused her attention on what might help explain their drive to fight each other.

He had stayed in the area, as long as he could, to help her in any way he could, but he eventually moved on, contacting her every few months to see if she'd made any discoveries, or needed anything else. There was always something that she found interesting, but nothing that helped him.

And there he was, in the middle of the desert, still wondering why he felt this underlying urge to beat, break and annihilate this woman he wanted to always be with. And why this woman, who also enjoys his company so well, who is perhaps his most trusted friend, as he is likely hers, persists in her attempts, however restricted, to kill him.

Stryker spat blood from his mouth and waited for her to get up. He was not sure how long they had been fighting, but they were both nearing exhaustion. He had never fought this long with anyone. This was largely due to the fact that there was nothing around to become a prominent factor in the fight. There were no objects to unfairly use as weapons. There were no building to come crashing down on top of him, accidentally or otherwise. There were no cliffs to be thrown off of.

It was pure skill against skill. It was how she wanted it with him, and for his plan to succeed, it was how it had to be. He could not take the risk of having it otherwise.

She had struck him another blow to the face, and that one, like a few of the others, sent him to the ground. It was, once again, her turn to wait for him to stand up. He took an extra moment to notice the position of the sun in the sky. He could make no precise guess, but they had definitely been at it for a couple of hours, at the very least.

He had to end this before Kira did, or before exhaustion laid them both down. He feared Kira more than exhaustion.

Stryker struggled to stand up. His left leg was killing him, and he was not sure if it was fractured. His lips were numb, and his eye was swollen half shut, but he could not tell which eye, because they both hurt, and the sun forced him to squint all the time, anyway.

She looked worse for wear, as well. She was favoring her right side. He may have cracked her ribs when he got in that good knee strike. One side of her lower lip looked like a plum, and the blood that had been seeping out had apparently already dried over.

The doctor's blouse had short sleeves, so he could see the bruises that covered almost half her arms, and her whole face was a mixture of red and purple with occasional, small areas of actual skin tone at its less exposed parts. He imagined that he did not look much different.

Both of them were breathing heavily, and both of them had weakened considerably, which was of little consolation since the sensitivity of their skin had increased due to bruising.

They both just stood their staring at each other, both needing to catch their breaths, and he thought to himself, I'd be dead already if this were a normal fight.

With that thought came the full realization of what he was there to do. He pretended he was staggering as he moved a little closer. He needed her to think he was worse off than he actually was. He summoned his remaining strength and lunged towards her, with impressive speed, sending his right fist straight toward her nose.

It took a second or two for him to realize that she had deflected the punch and had just sent both of her fists, simultaneously, into his chest. The air rushed out of his lungs, and, to his dismay, he could not seem to suck any back in- at least, not enough to re-inflate them.

It was definitely now or never. He reach out with both hands and wrapped them hard around her neck. He held and squeezed.

She tried to knock his arms away, but he was focusing all he had on his grip, except for what he was sparing to try to refill his lungs. She punched his stomach and sides and face, and he just took it. She kicked him in both legs, and sent her knee into his groin a couple of times, and he knew he would not be able to take much more of that.

He didn't want to do it, but he sent his knee crashing into the right of her rib cage, as hard as he could manage while maintaining his grip on her neck.

She would have cried out loud if she had been able to make any noise at all, but he saw the pain in her expression. Her lips pulled back across her teeth, and her eyes widened. Her knees buckled, and she began to drop, but he kept his grip, bending down over her. Against his palms, he felt the blood fighting its way through the veins in her neck.

Her breath was almost depleted. He was not doing a very good job of getting his own back, and he was beginning to feel it. His head began to feel heavy with the lack of oxygen, but he willed himself to not pass out yet.

Kira no longer struggled, and her eyes closed, but he had to hold on a moment longer. For her to merely pass out was not enough, especially since, when he finally passed out, he would not automatically start breathing again.

He felt the pulse in her neck finally cease. He waited one more second, released her, and in one final burst of will and strength, and even prayer, he managed one final act before collapsing into darkness.

"JAMES!"

James had been sitting in the doorway of the trailer. He could not bear to watch them for too long before he had finally hid his eyes, but he knew he had to be alert to them, so he had sat in the doorway, with the open door blocking his view, and he listened. He'd had to listen intently, because the sounds of their blows were faint due to their distance.

Helen had not liked the situation at all, but after James had explained it, she had supposed she understood, though she had not been sure she actually, truly believed any of it.

After almost three unbelievable and mentally exhausting hours, there had been a longer silence than usual. He had held his breath in an attempt to eliminate as much sound as possible, and then, just before the sound of his own blood had begun to pound in his ears, he'd heard the strangled cry. That was the signal.

He shouted, "Let's go," to his wife, and then lunged forward, hitting the ground running. Helen looked over at him suddenly, in a second of passing confusion, then bolted from her chair and out of the trailer. They both ran as fast as they could, though it was more difficult for Helen, since she was wearing high-heeled boots.

She thought to herself that perhaps she should have taken them off, after all. She had left them on because she thought she might step on sharp rocks. She now wondered if it might not have been worth the risk to possibly get there more quickly.

It was too late for debate, now, she thought, as they both ran towards the two still bodies that she could barely see lying in the dirt. Why couldn't they do this closer, she questioned, but that was just another futile thought. She decided to focus on her foot coordination and balance.

James slid, like a baseball player, to Kira's side, and immediately tilted her head back, held her nose, and breathed into her open mouth. Helen arrived and knelt beside Mr. Goodman and began the same procedure. They both alternated between breathing and heart massage.

Almost a minute passed before Kira finally gasped and began coughing. James lifted her into a sitting position and watched Helen still working. He began to worry even more than he already had been worrying.

Kira looked around, confused. "What's going on," she struggled to say. She looked up at the person next to her, and recognized him as James, but he didn't say anything. He was just looking at something across the way. She looked in the same direction.

She saw the back of her own outfit. Helen was wearing it, because they had switched clothes, she sorted out in her head. She was bending over somebo- STRYKER!

Kira's heart jumped and she scrambled clumsily on her hands and knees to Stryker's head. She winced with the pain in her side. Helen was frantically performing CPR on his apparently dead body. What the hell did he do, she thought. Her memory was still a little fuzzy.

Kira held the sides of his head when the doctor was breathing into him, and when she pumped his chest Kira stroked his forehead.

James watched Kira's torso lobbing back and forth in worry, and he heard her faintly talking to the man, repeating, "Come on," and "Come back to me", and he heard her call him, what sounded like Striker, a few times. He had no idea what that was about, but the curiosity passed when he saw a tear begin to roll down her discolored cheek. She must really care for him, James thought to himself. He was now even more confused.

Suddenly their was another gasp, and Mr. Goodman began to cough, then Helen and Kira both lifted him into a sitting position.

Kira quickly moved around to his side so she could see his face. "Stryker," she said to him, her speech slightly impaired by her swollen lip. "What the hell were you thinking? What were you trying to do?"

Helen had to hold him up. He blinked, and managed to focus his attention a little more. "Virginia," he said.

"What? What about Virginia?"

"Doesn't your ribs hurt?" His head moved about, apparently still a little dazed.

"Like a fat bastard. Now what about Virginia?" She held his head still. He said nothing. She gave his cheek a light slap. "Hey," she shouted in a more forceful tone. "What about Virginia? I remember earlier you told me I'd said something to you in the room."

He focused and looked straight into her eyes. "Yeah," he blinked twice. "That night, you were almost asleep. I asked you if you thought you'd ever get married."

She did not remember him asking such a thing, but if she was almost asleep, he could have asked just about anything and she would not have remembered. "Okay," she said, "What about it?"

Stryker inhaled deeply, with slight difficulty. "I asked you, and you said, he'd have to kill you first."

She said nothing, but instead thought, trying to remember, but also trying to figure out the purpose.

He inhaled deeply, again. "And I know you wanted a good fight with me."

She thought to herself, yes, he did, indeed, give her a great battle. She then began to piece together the location and decided lack of surroundings compared to all the other battles they had previously fought with each other. All those had ended prematurely. Postponed on account of serious injury caused by falling or getting hit by a car or angry bull, or some shit.

"Yeah," she said to him. "It was the best. Now, what about what you said I said?"

Stryker dropped his head long enough to mutter, "Oh, brother." He looked back up at her and grabbed the sides of her face. "Come here," he said, pulling her face closer to his. "I just killed you."

He kissed her gently on the least swollen portion of her lips, then moved her face a short distance away, again. "Now, would you just fucking marry me," he smiled and shook her head from side to side, playfully.

She felt incredibly stupid, but also overjoyed. This guy was unbelievable, she thought. "I would have never thought you'd be this insane," she said with as much of a grin she could physically manage. She felt her lip split again. She winced, but she ignored it. "Yes," she said. "I'll fucking marry you," she laughed, and then leaned down to kiss him. They both tasted her blood.

He released her face as she pulled back. "I want to go home, now," he said and began trying to get up.

"So does everyone," Kira said as she and the doctor helped him to his feet, though mostly the doctor, because Kira's side was in agony. James stepped in to help his wife. Mr. Goodman seemed to have a broken leg.

The doctor said, "I've got a good first-aid kit in the car. Let's see if we can keep any more parts of you two from breaking, or rupturing, or falling off."

The bandaged Kira and Stryker sat in the back seat of the Mathis' car, as the married couple gave them a ride back to Stryker's bar where they then helped the injured two inside and into his bedroom. The bartender and the currently only present customer stared at them as they passed through.

Mike had come in hurt before, but never looking like an eggplant or needing any help, the bartender thought to himself. What did he and those three get into, apart from each other's clothes?

Helen and James laid them both on the bed in the side room, and James asked, "Do either of you need anything?"

"No," said Stryker.

"Sleep," Kira said at the same time.

"Are you sure you don't need us to bring your motorcycle back," James added.

"No," Stryker said. "I won't be riding it for a while, and it's probably safer out there."

The doctor spoke with a more serious tone than her husband. "Are sure you will be able to keep tabs on Tula?"

"Yeah," Stryker said, reassuringly. "I have friends who... well, let's leave it at that. The less you know, the better off you are. You can go home and feel safe again."

The doctor held out her hand to him. "Thank you, Mr. Goodman. You don't know what this means to us."

He shook her hand. "My pleasure. And you can call me Mike."

The doctor nodded and smiled, then let go and moved a bit towards the door. James stepped up to him and said thanks. He then extended the same hand across to Kira. She shook it and he said, "Can she keep the outfit," then smiled.

"James," she said, surprised at him.

Kira gave a little laugh. "I insist."

"Thank you," he said a second time, quite pleased.

"James," she said again, scolding him lovingly. "Come on."

The two of them stepped out of the room and shut the door. They both said good-bye to Brody, who responded with, "See ya, folks," in his deep, almost gravely voice. The couple headed for the front door, and about half way he called out, "Hey."

They both stopped and looked back at him. He nodded his head upward and winked saying, "Lookin' good, there, Doc."

She smiled, as she turned away again, both flattered and embarrassed. She held her head down and a hand, like a visor, over one eye, attempting to hide her face.

"What'd I tell you," James said quietly in her ear, and then held out a thumb up back towards Brody, unseen by Helen, of course.

"Shut up," she said, hitting him playfully in the chest with her other hand. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close as they walked out of the bar.

Back in Stryker's room, he and Kira laid still, with their eyes closed, bodies touching at the sides and closest hands entwined. Her head tilted to lean against his shoulder, and his head tilted to lean against the top of her head.

He thought about her. He thought about how she was so strong inside; being independent and not letting pain get the better of her, and even enjoying it a little, like he did, not for the fact that it was pain, but for the fact that she was not giving in to it.

He thought about their ride back and how she showed more damage than most people could handle, and she still smiled, and even through the swelling and discoloration, she still looked incredibly beautiful. And, damn, that was a good fight.

They had been quiet, but Stryker spoke, now. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hmm," she responded, sleepily.

"You know what sucks," he asked.

"What?"

"I'm totally horny, right now," he said, then they both laughed wearily.

"Me too." They laughed again.

"Ohhhh, man," he sighed, and then minutes later, they both fell asleep.