So he also changed tacks, opening his ranks, drawing his opponent in. Redirecting his torsion musculature to pull from the very points where Shahim was impacting him, he directed all his strength into closing the gap between his hands and his stomach, every fiber of his being suddenly and entirely pulling inward with herculean power, even as every ounce of Shahim’s strength was focused in the opposite direction, driving his attack forward.

The change in tension was titanic, and because of the way they were both thrusting, that tension was applied, as John had intended, directly to Shahim’s neck. Alarms wailed inside Shahim as the forces shifted, his frame registering the pressure even as his own arms amplified it. John’s move had turned his own strength against him. He was effectively now trying to rip his own head off.

He knew he needed to free himself. He withdrew his attack, his fists stopping their firing progress through John’s torso as suddenly as they had started, and flashing inward, between John’s own forearms, looking to break John’s hold on the center of the board.

John’s body quite literally thanked him for forcing Shahim to relent some measure of the force behind the cannonball fists that had been driven into it. Shahim had delivered the equivalent of an artillery shell fired right into the center of John’s frame. It would have ripped a human clean in two.

The game continued to change millisecond to millisecond. Shahim was a writhing mass of muscle and wrath and John had only marginally damaged him. He was breaking John’s grip. While both Agents shared equal strength, Shahim’s arms’ momentum as they came up gave him the fractional torque advantage he required.

His head free, Shahim moved to bring his rooks into play. Starting to flip himself, pulling his head back and bringing his feet forward. Both Agents were now in midair. The momentum from Shahim’s first attack still driving them upward and back into the wide-open room.

John saw the new attack. Shahim’s fists were bad enough, but an Agent’s legs contained exponentially more power. John’s tactical analyses scrolled.

He looked for a way to counter. There. Maybe.

While Shahim wanted nothing more than to beat John into submission, he knew that victory in a straight fight was far from certain, especially with his weapons system gone, his proverbial queen. But he did not need to win. He needed only to get out alive, and bring the AIs into the fight, and this match would be all but over.

His systems told him that when his legs connected with John, who was flying backward through the air just ahead of him, they would catapult his enemy at the far wall. Any moment now. Almost there.

John saw Shahim’s knees come up. He did not stop them. John opened himself to them, inviting them in.