Hm...I think I should change John's sentence about Jas to the bad John to:

"Jas don't spread her legs for anyone she don't want to, and not for the likes of you."

The grammatically incorrect sentence provides more of a slang, more of a criminal and rough guy aspect to John. Lalala.

Okay. Halfway through the post...maybe I'll post that particular entry out...

Okies...here's the John-John half of the post:

##########

John was pissed. Oh, yes, he was. No one hit on Jas like that. Especially not his friggin’ double who showed no respect at all. Not to *Jas*.

“You will die for this,” John snarled to his double. His eyes, dabbed with surgical shine, saw everything in the room in outlines of fluorescent purple and black.

“What?” John II mocked, spinning about, following the former’s voice, not being able to see in pitch black. “She your woman?”

All the answer he got was a vicious hook across the face, and then in the stomach.

He gasped, winded, but did not lose the chance to grab hold onto his nemesis’s arm and gave a sharp twist.

John yelled hoarsely, raising his foot to stamp down on the other’s. When his arm was released, he ignored the pain and used the twisted arm to butt it in John II’s face.

“I’ll ghost you for that,” John II snarled.

“Yeeargh!” John sent another backhook towards the other, his panther-like eyes glinting in the darkness, feral. He was about to land another hit when he saw the other John slid out a shiv.

“Ain’t good enough, *John*.”

“You hope.”

John took out his own shiv as well. “You ain’t gonna make it.”

“Could say the same for you.”

The idle threats were not so idle, not for them. One used it for distraction, since he could see in the dark; the other used the voice as a guide in the darkness—a light of sorts in the dark.

John II caught on his enemy’s voice, but didn’t let on…not yet. He moved, gripping the handle of the shiv, circling, allowing his innate sense of animal instinct to surface.

“Too bad I didn’t get her, *John*. Your woman, I mean. She would’ve made good company for a few nights.”

("Jas don't spread her legs for anyone she don't want to, and not for the likes of you." ~Wanted to add this part in; didn't)

He heard an angry growl, then the slight woosh! of air as John moved towards him.

John II slashed out hard, and John barely had time to dodge it. The shiv tore through some skin and John grunted.

First blood.

John II was elated. That damned copy of him was a fool to think he could take him down.

“C’mon. You aren’t really fighting me for the kid, are you?” He taunted more.

Both of them knew of what he hinted at.

John knew about anger, knew how, to an extent, it clouded the mind and slowed the reactions down so that one was down to just blind rage. And it truly blinded the person.

It was useless.

Unless one moved into the anger, and *beyond* it, using it as a drive for strength and clarity. Then only would it be of use.

He used it.

John II’s distraction in talking and taunting proved fatal. John dropped his own shiv, and lunged at the other. There was no need even for sight, as sheer instinct guided his hands and his fury.

Punch after punch, blow after blow were traded in equal amounts, blood spilling from each.

But anger gave John strength, and his was the last blow. The shiv flashed in John’s eyes as he slashed it horizontally across, slicing open John II’s flesh and causing pain, but not death.

“Told you you ain’t gonna make it.”

##########

*grins*