Joy ride (part1): Stealing

challenge

James sleeks down the street behind the Jabari vanguard. Silent and in-step with their treads, a stalking shadow cast in streetlight. He gets about thirty paces off before they notice him; before a warrior in the back turns, with a yell. It's way too late, in his professional opinion. Had James been armed.. Had he had a sniper rifle on hand.

Well, but that's a lot of ifs, and to be honest, very little will hold up against a good sniper with a decent sight-line. And they do well; when they finally do spot him: fan out; surround him. Which is best practice, really. And just what he had expected. Allowing them, James takes a wide stance. Feet planted, arms hanging. He lets them come to him, face angled down and hidden behind a curtain of hair. From behind that safety, he follows the individual warriors without really looking; eyes unseeing on the pavement. They are but extensions of the real threat; the great mountain of a man that plants himself straight in front of James, staff-that-if-a-club struck into pavement with finality.

M'Baku is just as tall, just as wide as James remembers. Yet, there's a difference, to stand here in challenge. To know what is coming. And this, the stare-down that now follows is familiar territory to both of them. A silence sizing up; measuring. Looking for weakness and strength without moving, vying for the advantage; for that moment when one of them breaks the strenuous contact and loses nerve.

It's M'Baku that breaks. Ending the silence; yet not in defeat; his game is a different one; one less known to James, and it takes him a moment to register that shaking, that rumble is his opponent. And, another still, to place that noise: the slow roll of it, the staccato beat.

The Mountain King is laughing.

The realisation draws James's eyes. Confusion plain on his face; a little wry as the giant warrior spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture. The laugh keeps rolling though; a little too long for just those few seconds to be comfortable, before he proclaims, loud and boisterous: "White Wolf," a slow shake of the head, as he lowers his trunk-like arms. "James.. You are an odd one."

James blinks, tearing his eyes away and casting them down, returning his attention to the warriors, fanning out to the end of his peripheral vision. One more step, and he will no longer be able to see those furthest back. They will be behind him, only sound and instincts left to warn James of an incoming attack. Still, he gives a short nod, agreeing with M'Baku with his assessment. And the man doesn't know half of it.

Still, the mountain feels the need to explain: "first, you run from me with your tail between your legs." M'Baku's grin grows wide, arms gesturing up again, that great fur on his shoulders heaving when his shoulders ripple, muscles taunt; making James wonder, isn't the man hot with that clung to his back? ".. and then you steal from me. Don't you know that's the wrong way around?"

The men at the outside of the vanguard step, closing that proverbial nose, and James moves back with them; carefully measured. The movement pulls M'Baku's attention, head cocking slightly, before he follows forward, taking the ground given. "Tell me, White Wolf. What are you doing here? Have you come to apologise?" he grunts, a wicked shine lighting up his face. " I suppose you have been entertaining, but it would need to be a pretty convincing apology for me to be tempted to accept."

At that, James grunts his agreement, before clearing his throat in an effort to speak clearly. "I'll do you one better, Mountain King. "I'll fight you."

They freeze; not just M'Baku, but his warriors as well. A stilling in shock and outrage; like he hasn't wrenched from them their heart's desire. Like none of them are tempted, by the promise of fame. The ever-lasting glory a victory would bring any of them. Instead, they act outraged. Like James just suggested they take those clubs of theirs and shove them where the sun doesn't shine. That image at least puts half a grin on James's face.