It was a junkie this time. A junkie in withdrawal. From the facial twitches and darting eyes, along with the popularity of the drug these days, Gavin was pretty sure it was red ice. The guy was young. He looked mid-thirties, but with the effects of the drug, he could easily be late teens or early twenties. Nothing aged you like red ice. He'd seen people his own age who looked like grizzled old men. Physically, the young man hadn't started bloating yet. That seemed to happen with red ice. With the messed up metabolism, your body was always hungry. That he hadn't eaten suggested he was either a fairly new user or he lived on the street with limited access to food. The latter would make more sense for the Hickory Killer's purposes. Who'd notice if a homeless junkie disappeared?

The Hickory Killer offered the same deal as always. One person had to die, and the other two could live. The junkie's ticks increased at the news, beady blue eyes darting between the two glass cells. Gavin knew what he was thinking. Kitty was the obvious weak link. He even managed a small grin, the yellowing teeth giving him away as a red ice user. They hadn't started to rot yet, just heavy staining, but it wouldn't take long for the rot to set in. Gavin's lips curled in disgusting as he reminded himself it probably wasn't his fault. People didn't just turn to hard drugs for no reason. They did it to escape something. He considered himself pretty lucky he hadn't been offered drugs to take the edge off. He wasn't sure he'd turn it down at this point.

"H-hey! Hey-you!" Gavin looked over as the weaselly voice called him. The man was a little scruffy and unshaven as he grinned hopefully, trying to win him over. "What do you say we do her in and get out of here? Makes sense, right? Fighting each other would be a waste of energy. She's a kid! What's she going to do to us?" Logically, he had a point, and if he were another junkie with no connection to Kitty, he'd probably go for it. Unfortunately for this guy, that was his goddaughter he was talking about. The thought must have shown on his face as the man's smile dropped and he swallowed. He was anxious, and for good reason.

Of the two of them, Gavin had more muscle. The unknown man was tall but wiry. He looked like he'd snap like a twig. Despite that, Gavin was cautious. He'd tangled with guys like this before. Height would still give him an advantage when it came to reach, and withdrawals could do strange things to a guy. He didn't look strong, but he was desperate. For freedom and his next hit. The Hickory Killer had probably promised him both to sweeten the deal. People would go to extreme lengths for things like that. Gavin licked his licks, calculating his first move.

In the earlier days, he would have worried about protecting Kitty, but they'd built a system over the past few trials. Kitty's one and only job was to grab the cattle prod and keep herself safe. That usually entailed her running out, grabbing the rod, and running back in. She'd pull her door as tight as it would go and wait with the rod primed and ready. Gavin would watch over her, of course, but while she was grabbing the rod, he was usually already busy fighting whoever the Hickory Killer put in the other box. So far they'd all been pretty bad people. Murderers, paedophiles, and gang members with lengthy rap sheets. This was his first time getting a drug addict. Many addicts did bad things, but that didn't make them inherently evil. He tried not to think too hard about that. This was still a choice between the junkie and Kitty.

As soon as the door buzzed, Gavin forced his way through it. Kitty had already left her room by the time he grabbed the nearest weapon. A light metal bat. It wasn't the best weapon when it came to making a kill, but it would extend his reach. The junkie had his first weapon, too. A heavy iron crowbar. It would do more damage than the bat, but it was heavier. It would slow his running speed and take longer to swing, with less control when he did. Kitty snagged the rod and headed back to her cell, trusting Gavin to watch her back as she ran. He stepped between them as the junkie turned to head in her direction, bat already swinging.

"Come on! She's just a kid! No match for either of us! Why kill each other when we could just kill her and get out of here?" Gavin swung the bat again, listening as it swooped through the air. It was more of a warning than an attack, and it had the desired effect in making the guy back off. He looked between them, clearly trying to work out what sort of connection they had or if they really knew each other. "Come on, man! You help me out here and I'll split the ice with you. You'll get enough to make like two thousand bucks!" That was a lot of red ice. The Hickory Killer really wanted this guy to fight for it.

"Not a chance!" Gavin raised his bat to deflect the hooked end of the crowbar, barely managing to knock the heavy weight aside. The bar was a lot heavier than it looked. He wasn't about to tell him how important Kitty was. He'd probably fight a lot harder once he knew he was beyond convincing. Since the bar was so heavy, Gavin backed off to give himself some thinking space. The bat was great and all, but he really needed to disarm his opponent and get him on the ground. Of the two of them, there was a good chance the junkie would tire first. He was already pretty frail with the withdrawals, and clearly didn't work out as much.

"Why? You got a thing for girls? Is that it?" Gavin glared at the insinuation, but he wasn't going to rise to it. That's what the guy wanted. To rile him up and get him in close. "That's it, isn't it? She your type, or is she a little old for you?" He clearly thought he'd hit a nerve as he kept pressing. Gavin tightened his jaw and backed off. It didn't matter what this guy said. He was talking shit. In his younger days on the force, it would have worked like a charm, but he was older now. Seasoned. He was a sergeant. Kitty's life was on the line. He didn't trust the guy would just leave after killing him. The Hickory Killer would probably let him take care of Kitty as a loose end he needed to tie up.

They fell silent for a while as Gavin let him stalk him around the room. He was out of reach enough that he could glance down and make sure he wasn't about to step on anything, but not so much that he could stop and change weapons. There were a few potentials, but nothing he needed to change out for now. He was just letting the guy wear himself out. Gavin was a little surprised as the guy made his first move. He stepped forward faster than he was expecting and made a chance swing. Gavin managed to hop back out of reach, but he felt the brush of metal on his woollen top. He needed to stay a little more focused and not get lost in the motions.

It was almost like swordplay as the guy stepped in again. He took quick steps, swinging and stepping continuously. Gavin could have made return swings, but he didn't want to risk it just yet. His opponent was still at full strength and could get in a lucky backswing if he wasn't careful. Unfortunately, the constant dodging was riling the guy up. He seemed more determined, redoubling his efforts until they were almost jogging in circles. Gavin almost stumbled as he started stabbing the bar like a spear, trying to jab his chest and gut. With a roar, the man stretched his arms and ran, forcing Gavin to jump to the side.

With a grunt, Gavin doubled over and rolled, clutching his side and considering himself lucky the bar caught him with the flat side and not the crooked tip. Since the swing had been a desperate attempt with little strength put into it, he didn't think it had broken any ribs, but it still hurt like a bitch. Gavin breathed deeply, wincing at the ache and trying to block out Kitty's alarmed cry as she pressed against the glass watching. Hearing her call him uncle made the penny drop for his opponent. There was no way Gavin was going to let him kill her, so it was best to be relentless and keep him off balance until he got in another lucky swing.

Knowing that, Gavin staggered a few paces ahead. He was still a little breathless from that last strike, his side throbbing with each step. Since he was on the run, the bat was useless. He dropped it in exchange for the hunting knife. If he could get in a lucky jab with that, it would all be over. His opponent smirked. Two could play at that game. There was something feral in his eyes as he picked up the machete. It was a popular choice. Gavin wasn't a fan. He found the blade a little too thick and cumbersome, but more than one opponent had tried to get him with it so far. The fact the weapons were now bladed meant staying out of reach was even more important.

Gavin gave him a good run around despite the pain in his side, and he could tell the junkie's energy levels were flagging. He could probably keep this up for another hour at least, but it seemed he wouldn't have to. Taking his chances, Gavin got in close enough to knock the machete aside and got in a lucky swing. The howl the junkie let out made him wince, and the look of horror on his face as he touched his bleeding gut and stared at the blood was even worse. It seemed to dawn on him then that this was very real. Gavin was trying to kill him, and he was going to die.

"Y-you stabbed me!" Gavin wasn't about to quibble over terms. Technically, he'd cut him, but that mattered very little as the man's lips trembled and pulled into a snarl. Gavin wasn't sure if it was anger or fear, but he could see he was riling himself up. A deafening shriek filled the room as the junkie ran at him, taking big swings with the machete that almost threw him off balance. Since he was off balance, it would be a good time to fight back, but Gavin was wary of another lucky backswing. The machete would do a lot more damage than the crowbar.

What he really wanted was to get that thing out of his hand. That was almost more important than getting in his own strike. Once he was unarmed, he'd be safer to deal with. With that in mind, Gavin started focusing on his swinging arm. He clearly had no experience wielding long blades, which wasn't unexpected. His grip was quite loose, and his wrist was weak. He couldn't seem to hold it straight. Machetes weren't exactly heavy, so Gavin put it down to this guy being weak. His weak wrist meant the blade almost turned a half circle each time he swung, and he used that momentum to swing it back again.

The blade itself wasn't well aimed. He was doing such a poor job with some swings that there was a good chance the thick blade would hit him sideways rather than slice him open. Gavin wasn't about to take the chance, even when he could see it happening. It wasn't worth it when he could keep backing off and wait for him to tire. His arm was getting lower. He brought his second hand to the handle to help lift it again. Now using two hands, he was even more off balance. His whole body turned with the swing now, leaving a large opening for Gavin if he chose to take it.

Licking his lips, Gavin kept backing off, counting the swings. One...two...three! On the third swing, he stepped in and grabbed the junkie's wrists, joining his hands on the handle. His opponent roared as they stumbled in circles, Gavin trying to dislodge the blade while the junkie tried to keep it. With a sweep of his leg, Gavin sent him falling to the ground, going with him to keep control of the blade. The machete slipped from their grasp as they hit the ground, and Gavin pushed it out of reach. A feral cry filled his ears as blunt nails raked his face. They'd leave marks beneath his stubble, but Gavin was pretty sure he was in one piece. Despite that, the sting did make him flinch.

The junkie took the opportunity to pounce him, forcing him on his back and giving him the chance to claw at his eyes. Gavin raised an arm to defend his face, using the other to punch his exposed side. The junkie quickly gave up on his eyes, thinking it best to stop the fist at his side. He started throwing punches of his own. They were weak, but still enough to hurt. He also grabbed the chest of Gavin's top and pounded him against the ground, trying to hit the back of his head. Holding his head up, Gavin managed to limit those impacts to his shoulders and rocked his hips to toss the guy off.

They pounded each other, blindly kicking, punching and clawing as they rolled across the floor. Gavin yelled as teeth bit his jaw. It wasn't hard enough to make him bleed, but it still fucking hurt. He landed a good kick and searched his pocket for the hunting knife, only to realise it had been lost during the scuffle. Picking out the knife a few feet away, he made a move to grab it, only to be forced down by a weight on his back. They rolled again and Gavin ended up lying on the ground, green eyes wide as an unpleasantly familiar heat bloomed just above his right hip. He didn't need to look or touch to know he'd been stabbed.

"I-I did it...I-did-it! I won!" The junkie looked mad as he stared down at him with a toothy grin, hand trembling on the knife in Gavin's side. It wasn't the hunting knife. That was still just out of reach. He must have grabbed something else earlier...Without looking down, he couldn't tell what it was or how deep it had hit. It was sharp and deep enough that it hadn't hurt, which wasn't a good sign. Gavin gritted his teeth. Gut wounds like this weren't fatal. If he only stabbed the once, it would take a good few hours for him to bleed out.

"Ph-phck!" Gavin ignored the sickening warmth soaking through his top as he punched the man's jaw and knocked him off. Looking down, he saw the handle of a switchblade sticking out. That wasn't so bad. The blade was only two or three inches long, tiny compared to most other weapons. That doesn't mean it's not a serious injury. I'm definitely at a disadvantage...He also had to keep the blade inside. If he pulled it out, he'd only bleed faster. Gripping the handle, he looked for the closest weapon. Still the hunting knife. He made a grab for it, looking up as the junkie got to his feet. He'd grabbed the machete again.

"Not so tough now, are you?" The man took his time as he walked over, swinging the blade idly at his side. Gavin cursed under his breath as he scooted back across the floor. He needed to use the wall to get himself up. Gripping his side, he grunted through each shuffling push, holding his side and feeling his stomach churn at the warm stickiness on his hand. "I think I'll make it slow...Cut you up piece by piece..." Gavin was pretty sure the guy was running on adrenaline at this point. He was trembling, absolutely giddy with the excitement of victory. I'm not dead yet. "Legs first. That'll stop you from moving so much." Phck! Gavin wasn't sure whether to be relieved or horrified as his back hit the wall. He could push himself up, but there was nowhere to go as the man raised the blade.

"Uncle Gavin!" He hadn't even noticed her move, but the way the junkie's body shuddered and the deafening cry that fled his lips was enough to tell him she'd jabbed him with the rod. Kitty yelped in terror, pushing the rod into the man's back and holding it there as it buzzed and crackled. She'd never heard a man make such a high-pitched screech before. He was still twitching as he fell to the floor. Kitty stumbled back, staring at his twitching body, still brandishing the rod with trembling hands. Heaving himself to his knees, Gavin took over. Grabbing the hunting knife, he drove it through the junkie's neck. Pulling it out, he rolled sideways and curled up holding the blade in his gut. "Uncle Gavin! Uncle Gavin! W-what do I do? How can I-"

"D-don't! B-blade stays in." Gavin gave the closest he could to a reassuring smile as he batted her hand away from the injury. Since the fight had ended, he was starting to feel it. A deep ache. A searing burn in his side. His breath shuddered as he closed his eyes and whimpered. He could hear Kitty sobbing as she shook his shoulder, which was really making his side hurt. "Sh-shhhhhh, I-I'm okay. Fight's over. They'll come get us soon." That was less than reassuring for Kitty as she settled against his back and sobbed into his shoulder.