This is a very brief snippet from one of the stories in an upcoming collection.  The story’s working title is “Plaza of Pain.”  Let me know what you think.

The Operator grabbed at Park’s wrist as he stepped closer to him, moving around the knee Park threw up. For a moment, the two balanced like that, in a pose not unlike a tango.  His hold on Park’s wrist slipped a bit, but he was able to dig the tips of his fingers between the bones separating the wrist from the hand.  Park cried out at the sudden pain, then dropped his revolver as his hand went numb.

The heavy Nagant fell to the ground, tripping its hair trigger and sending a bullet into the wall.  The Operator looked down at it momentarily, trying to see if he could retrieve it.  Park took advantage of this, rearing his head back and bringing it crashing down on the bones just above the Operator’s left eye.  

The Operator roared as pain and blood bloomed from his forehead, and his embrace with Park ended as he took a step back.  Park lunged with his knife, but the Operator instinctively threw a forearm shiver into the smaller man.  Park cried out, missing the Operator with his knife, embedding the long blade into the plaster of the wall.  Water from a severed pipe squirted around it, drenching them both.

“Ich liebe dich, mein Schatz!”  Park screamed in angry Korean.

“And one for your mom, pal,” the Operator hissed as he closed the distance between them.