Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

didn’t try to merely immobilize him. He got in four or five rapid punches to the midsection before one wicked left to Zane’s unprotected face.
    Shouts of protest came from the crowd, but no one moved to stop it. Zane balled up and took the clearly painful hits, and when Ty reared back for a last shot, Zane got one knee pulled back and shoved a foot into Ty’s gut, hard, before he started scrambling away from him. Ty stumbled backward, but then he attacked again, too quickly for Zane to get away.
    “I think he’s getting pissed,” Alston observed drily.
    “If Ty was pissed, Garrett’d be dead already,” Perrimore pointed out in a flat voice.
    Another round of pained groans went up from the small crowd of watching agents as Ty tackled Zane and straddled him, pinning him with his knees.
    “That hurt, dammit!” Ty growled at his partner as he held him to the mat by his neck.
    “Fuck you, Meow Mix,” Zane hissed back as he got one hand on Ty’s shoulder — the arm holding him down — having just enough arm length to keep Ty from totally throttling him. He balled up his other fist and punched Ty in the gut. Everyone heard the thump of fist hitting solid muscle, but it didn’t dislodge him.
    Ty turned his shoulder, slamming his elbow against the side of Zane’s head before grabbing him by the neck again with one hand and using the other hand to fend off Zane’s attempts at retaliation.
    Anyone who knew Ty knew that he wasn’t trying to kill his partner, though. Cause brain damage, maybe. But not kill him.
    “Guys, this is too much,” Clancy finally objected as she raised both her hands.
    “You gonna get in there to separate them?” Alston asked incredulously as he watched Zane continue to fight off Ty’s other hand while bucking under him, trying to throw him off.
    Clancy shook her head, and they watched in morbid amusement as Zane finally, somehow, got some leverage. The two men rolled across the mat in a badly orchestrated tumble, each man too stubborn to release the other as they grappled.
    “What the hell is going on here?” an irritated voice bellowed from the doorway of the main gym.
    The crowd of agents scattered. Ty and Zane stopped mid-throttle, looking up at their superior like two kids caught roughhousing in the living room.
    Alston edged away toward the weight room, stopping just behind the doorway to peer around the corner with Clancy and two other curious agents.
    In the middle of the ring, Ty turned his head to look at Special Agent in Charge Dan McCoy, who was glowering at them from several yards away. “Hey, Mac,” Ty greeted innocently as he straddled his bleeding partner. “Come down to work the glutes?” he asked with a sincere cock of his head.
    Zane gasped for air and rapped his knuckles hard against Ty’s chest as he finally pried Ty’s fingers from his throat.
    “You two, my office, now,” McCoy ordered as he pointed his finger at them. “If you can kick the shit out of each other, then you’re ready for your next assignment,” he muttered as he turned and stalked away.
    As soon as McCoy was gone, someone from somewhere in the cavernous workout room wolf-whistled at Ty and Zane and proceeded to applaud the performance they’d given.
    Ty stood and took a bow as Zane stalked off toward the locker rooms. Alston snorted and looked down at Perrimore with a shrug. “Better them than us.”
    “I hear that,” Perrimore muttered as he returned to the weights.
     
     
    Z ANE let his head loll back and lifted one hand to gently prod his split lip. “Ow.”
    “Whine about it. It’ll make it better,” Ty offered as he stood in front of his locker, his back to Zane, and unwrapped the tape from his hands with jerky, irritated movements.
    “Bite me,” Zane muttered as he dug into his locker for a towel before starting in on the tape on his own hands. He spared an evil glance for Ty. “Teaching me to advance in a fight is a bad idea.”
    “Teaching you to fight at all is an exercise in futility,” Ty responded in a matter-of-fact tone. “Luckily for you, I enjoy things like banging my head against a wall.”
    “I enjoy banging your head against a wall too,” Zane replied as he tossed the balled-up tape at a nearby trash can. He let a small smile quirk his lips as he sat on the bench to unlace his shoes.
    “Shut up,” Ty grunted at him. But even though his back was still turned to him, Zane could hear the smile in his voice. “And cut it out with the damn cat