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Eliot parried the fist that was flying wildly at his face before he punched its owner in the throat. As the man dropped to the ground, gasping in pain, Eliot felt a rustling behind him and slammed his elbow into another militia thug. This one, too, dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Embarrassing, really. Eliot hadn't even hit that hard.
While choking out a third guy, Eliot caught sight of Quinn crouching down to sweep someone's feet out from under them. Quinn usually favoured a simpler forward sweep, Eliot mused as the man he was holding passed out. A full drop-sweep meant he, too, was getting bored.
One of the thugs on the ground regained enough of his faculties to go for a gun that his friend had dropped earlier and aim it at Eliot. Before he could turn the safety off, however, Quinn grabbed the gun out of his hand, removed the magazine, popped out the round in the chamber, and then lifted the gun, winding up to pistol-whip the man.
"Quinn, no," Eliot said.
Quinn rolled his eyes and sighed, dropped the gun, and used both hands to grab the thug, lifting him off the ground to toss him at Eliot, who knocked him out with a single punch.
And just like that, it was over, far too soon for Eliot's satisfaction. He'd expected more of a fight from this so-called Brotherhood who thought they could "take back" the country, whatever that meant.
He wondered if he shouldn't have called Quinn in for this job. If it might have been more of a challenge if he were fighting them alone.
Probably not, though. The fight would probably have just been twice as long and just as boring.
"Bit of a shame these guys couldn't even--" Eliot started, but he was cut off by a fist flying at his face. He noticed it too late to parry or side-step, so he rolled with the punch.
Fuck. He'd forgotten how hard Quinn could hit. "What the hell, man?" Eliot said, spitting a bit of blood.
"You said this job would have some fighting, but these chumps?" Quinn said surveying the unconscious goons. "Come on, Eliot, don't tell me you're--"
Eliot cut him off with a punch of his own.
"That's better," Quinn smiled, before shooting for a take-down.
Well. It looked like there was going to be some fun to be had this evening, after all.