"You're joking with me, right? You, want to fight me? I'd be too worried about you breaking a hip or something. Are you sure you thought this through old man? Sure it's not to dementia setting in?"

Fox let out a slow breath that curled and condensated in the air as the arrogant, slick haired younger man let out a relentless barrage of insults. The incessant prattling fell on deaf ears as Fox steadied himself, toning everything out except for the cocky little prick standing in front of him.

His feet slid apart, his waist lowering as he sunk into a traditional fighting pose, with his sword held in both hands before him.

"Tell you what old timer, At least you got good taste in steel. Why don't you just hand it over and we'll see if our gracious saviour will have pity on you, how's that sound?"

"Come and take it."

The smug smirk plastering the younger man's face faltered for a moment, before twisting into an irritated scowl. He pushed his useless sunglasses up before jutting a finger towards Fox.

"I was trying to be nice to a pensioner. But looks like you really don't know what's good for you. Fine, if that's the way you want it. From your cold dead hands it will be."

He sunk into a deep stance, one hand holding his sheath and pushing it upwards, while the other hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He sunk deep, almost like he was a sprinter getting ready to race, to the point that it was surprising he didn't fall.

A soft click sounded, his sword pushed from his sheath with a push of his thumb, before his form disappeared in a blur.

CLLAANG!

The cocky young man appeared once again, standing directly in front of Fox, as their blades clattered and clashed together. His cocky smirk was fully gone, but it wasn't irritation he was showing anymore either. It was confusion, and a hint of fear.

He stumbled back from the impact of the clash, while Fox remained steadfast and firm, his feet never leaving their spot.

The younger man had to quickly lean back, just barely avoiding the blade whistling past his face in an upwards slash. The counterattack flowing perfectly from the casual block Fox had performed like it was nothing.

The blade sang as it passed, cleaving through flesh as easily as air.

When the young man finally gained some distance, he touched his hand against his cheek, feeling the slight sting of pain and the warmth of crimson on his fingers and trickling down his face.

"Fast reflexes, for an old man. You caught me off guard that time, but it won't happen again."

He twisted his feet again, before his form blurred forwards. Usually with this kind of speed and power, the ground would be shattering beneath their feet, dust would be thrown in the air and the wind would howl as it was shoved aside.

But there was nothing. This man moved like a phantom, the world barely acknowledging his presence as he moved faster than the eye could follow. Yet even still, with every movement he made, the clanging of steel against steel rang and filled the empty square like a bell tolling the end.

Who's end, though, seemed to be unclear at the moment.

Fox held his ground, while countless images of his opponent appeared around him for mere fractions of a second. Once, when their blades clashed against each other before he launched himself backwards, then again when he launched himself forwards again from a distance.

All of these movements happened in a split second, with so many dashes and retreats happening from the younger man that for any brave enough to watch, it would seem as if Fox was being surrounded and beset by an entire army all at once.

And yet despite the army of after images and the man moving faster than the blink of an eye, the deafening and constant ringing of steel against steel kept ringing out. It was a sound that would haunt this young mans nightmares, his brain churning in overtime trying to understand it.

'It's... It's not possible! How! How can he keep blocking me! How is this old geezer still going?!'

He launched himself forwards once more, crossing the space between them in a time frame thought to be impossible in the before times, and yet once more Fox raised his blade perfectly to block his strike. He could swear that the old man was moving before he even launched himself, so that by the time he was attacking his sword was already in position to block it.

Even when he changed his strike mid-way through, even then he was right every single time. It was like he was reading his mind! No... He had fought a psychic before and even then they were helpless before him.

It was as if... as if this old geezer knew his every move before he even decided what he was going to do.

The young man appeared a distance away from Fox, reeling from the latest in the long line of impossible blocks, but before he could launch himself again his eyes widened in horror. He quickly raised his blade just in time to stop his head being removed from his neck. That horrible sound rang out again, steel against steel, but this time it was a glorious sound to the young man.

For it was the sound that saved his life, only barely.

He quickly pushed back, disappearing in a blur and appearing metres away, but he couldn't even get a chance to breathe in relief before the viscous Fox was on him again, his blade already mid swing as he charged towards his new location, like he knew before hand.

Every time he leapt back, Fox was there ready to kill once again. There was no rage in his eyes, no amusement, nothing. Not even a cold calculation, at least that would have been some kind of emotion. But no, Fox simply looked at the young man like he was already dead, as if he was simply a blade of grass in a field being trimmed down to size. Like he was nothing.

He leapt back once more, raising his sword in a panicked defence, but there was nothing to defend against. Fox was simply standing there, exactly where he had just left their previous encounter in a string of hundreds.

Fox narrowed his eyes at the young man, as if he was waiting for something. The young man, on the other hand, simply looked at Fox with complete and utter terror. His eyes were wide open, fully on display as he had lost his sunglasses to Fox's blade long ago.

He was covered in small scars and cuts that were dripping with fresh blood that stained his shirt. Even his coat was in complete and utter tatters, while Fox seemed absolutely perfect. Not a single scratch on him. But such a fact strangely didn't contribute to his terror.

Fox regarded him once more, staring at him like he was almost... bored. Finally an emotion filled his eyes, but it was one that the young man had never hoped to see. Disappointment.

Sinking into position once more, Fox pointed his sword towards the once cocky young man, as if gesturing him to continue to fight and struggle for his life. Urging him to be more than a worthless disappointment and prove himself worthy of a death by his blade.

The young man lifted his blade again, the tip trembling and shaking as he held it out, before he quickly sheathed it and took his sprinter's stance again. At that moment, his eyes widened and he stifled a whimper, before his form vanished in a blur once more. Yet he never appeared afterwards.

Fox waited for a few seconds before scoffing in derision, standing up straight and sheathing his blade once more.

"Pathetic. Can't even die properly. It seems I'm pretty rusty though..."

He said with an irritated tone, glancing down at the back of his sword hand as a sting of pain suddenly grabbed his attention. He narrowed his eyes at the small, fresh cut that had formed on the back of his head, a few droplets of blood forming on the edge.

If he had allowed that worthless little shits blade to give him even this much of a mark, then he truly had some rust to get out of his system even after dealing with beasts all this time. Perhaps, that was the issue, too many mindless beasts. No true opponents. He would have to sort that when he got back.

However, he never thought that he was so rusty that he didn't even notice when he had gained such a cut. Perhaps the lack of pain until now could simply be put down to adrenaline.

Dismissing his sword, he made himself inconspicuous and moved to hide himself nearby. He had to keep a low profile until his other companions arrived at the rendezvous and they could get transported back at once with the teleporter. It was good that he could so easily guide that little wannabe towards his rendezvous point while he was still giving him his spanking. The little shit probably didn't even realise it was happening either.

It was a shame about that young girl though, but death was something he had become used to long before the apocalypse descended, so it certainly wasn't going to move him to tears now.

Sitting himself down, Fox found himself revisiting old memories as he watched their rendezvous spot, only letting out a cooing bird noise when he saw a peculiar patch of dirt shifting along the ground trying to be inconspicuous.