Chapter Text
Tombstone's knife clattered at Gwen's feet.
"How disappointing!" she scoffed, as he began to charge. "There are only so many fixed details across the multiverse, but somehow among them is your inability to stab me on Groundhog's Day in this shitty warehouse."
Tombstone glared in response and pulled his elbow back, readying to strike a blow.
"Ronde de jambe!" Gwen said with a sweet smile as she swept the knife across the floor in an arc, then flipped it on the toe of her pointe shoe.
Tombstone's fist was coming down as Gwen called out, "Petit battement!" and flicked the knife into his knee.
He collapsed in pain, and began wrenching out the deeply embedded knife. Gwen backed up for a running start.
"So," she taunted, picking up speed, "Depending on whether you have your hands free in time, this upcoming leap will result in a lift or a pile driver."
Her graceful leap through the air was a setup. She'd fought enough versions of Tombstone (with varying degrees of man-cleavage) to know he would discount the strength in her grande jeté, instead seeing a prime opportunity to slash her femoral artery.
He would be disappointed to find she was aiming to disarm, rather than maim; the knife would quickly be out of the equation. Gwen's confidence was also boosted by the knowledge her team would be showing up soon, and this pas de deux would become an ensemble number. Not knowing any of this, Tombstone raised his head with a smirk, his bloodied knife finally free in his hand.
Mid-air, she flipped direction, pleased with the sudden inspiration to perform a tour jeté over a grande jeté, since that meant she could use one foot to disarm and the other to dislocate his jaw.
Unexpectedly, though, neither foot met resistance.
She was caught off balance both literally and figuratively, and her landing was rough. As she dusted her suit off, she was more than surprised to see Noir sitting serenely atop of Tombstone, a knife embedded deeply in his hand.