The sandy dust from his shoe as his left feet slapped across my face when he did a backswing stung my eyes so much so that I could taste it on the tip of my tongue as I twirled backward like a fallen baton. We have been at it for more than half an hour; neither of us seemed to have a definite advantage over the other. For every move that he made, I was able to answer them one by one.

My cheeks were swollen, my saliva was tainted with the metallic taste of blood. His punches were far and between, for he was more comfortable using his legs than his fists.

I could feel, no, I knew one of my ribs was broken. It had to be, I have had broken ribs before, and that excruciating, unbearable and almost unmanageable pain was definitely broken ribs jutting at the inner flesh of my body. Or was it two ribs? I couldn't remember, ever, being thrashed like this. But I managed to duck most of his more lethal attacks, trying my very best not to make any more mistakes that could cost me my life.

Thankfully there were deep gashes on the corner of his eyes oozing blood that helped blur his vision and dull his precision. He was less agile, more so as he seemed to prefer to stay put while waiting to counter my moves. At one point I managed to jump - broken ribs and all - and gave him a turning kick right smack on his left ear, but when I touched down on the ground his punch landed straight onto my swollen cheeks again, the left side, this time. I have strong teeth, thank God, otherwise I would have been picking my front teeth or even my molars off the ground.

The smoggy atmosphere of the JW Marriott parking lot was not much help, and the concrete walls and columns were not friendly to us, when we hit the walls during the fight.

I was really getting tired, my guards were still up but somehow I knew his next one or two attacks could be very well be the last ones I could defend myself against. Could tiredness be a precursor to helplessness? I began to question my own motivation, whilst swallowing blood. I laughed inwardly, I was a vampire, sucking my own blood.

A bullet a day keeps the hitman away

Suddenly, a supersonic sound pierced through the air. I knew it was a gunshot, but no gunfire was heard before that. My opponent limped, leaned over to one side and fell to the floor like an old cotton rag, lifeless and of no threat to me any longer. I watched, with relief, that my ordeal was now over. This man, despite my desperate attempt to overcome him, had few more rounds left in him, rounds that I could not match had that bullet not penetrated his head.

"I couldn't help it. Taped the whole thing. You were simply amazing."

Kristy, are you crazy or are you crazy?

She came out of her hiding.

"Seriously, that was the best fight I have ever seen. You didn't even fight like that when you took your upgrading test. Fighting for dear life must have been a pretty good darn motivator, huh?"

You could have shot him earlier and saved me from having my face puffed up like this.

Really, I didn't care if Kristy was a woman. For what she did, I could have kicked her senseless too, had I a little bit more strength left, long-standing lover be damned. I could have died there and then and she was shooting a movie instead of her gun.

"Next time bring your gun with you. Can't expect me to change your diapers every time you pissed in your pants, can you?"

Yes, big sister.

That was the second hitman I had to kill that week. We really have to get out of this place, I told Kristy. KL was getting too hot, even for us.

"You do realise we have to kill a few more? You have any idea how?"

Hey, you do the thinking. I can't even swallow my own spit, no thanks to you.

We slept at JW that night, I begged Kristy so. I was so tired we didn't even have sex, a rare occurrence given our relationship. These broken ribs were going to take some time to heal.

The next morning

As always, her morning ritual would be to count how many rounds of ammunitions we had left. We had a few hundreds, with two hundreds already in 20 clips.

She would disassemble and reassemble the guns at least two times, for each gun, and we carry four, two each. I have taken her up on this obsessive compulsive behaviour, and obsessively compulsively do the same thing with my weapons.

"I've passed the word around that a big contract is being tendered out and get all the hitmen to come in, and we just eliminate all of them when they come! Not only have we got ourselves out of this rut, but we'll have less competition for future jobs, too!"

I rubbed my bandaged ribs and rolled back to sleep. Crazy woman. How are we going to kill 20 hitmen in one room and get away with our skins intact?

One by one the men came up and out of the lift. The JW Marriott Lounge was on the 24th floor. It was barely evening, past seven thirty or so. But it was already dark, as it was raining and the Petronas Twin Towers, which usually provided a nice view from this level in the hotel, was barely visible. The men had been given instructions on how to use the lift without using the security keycard.

Kristy and I had already rigged the lounge and the lifts with explosives. We were standing on the 25th floor, which had a glass partition overlooking the Level 24 Lounge. It was a vantage view; we were going to get our targets pretty easily. As the last few men entered the lounge, we identified about 17 hitmen. Hey, I'm a hitman myself. I know my own kind.

As it got darker outside, and the men were sipping quietly their juices and drinks, waiting for a controller to introduce himself and tell them about the huge contract, the lounge exploded into a din of destruction, so much so that the floor of level 25 which we were standing on vibrated violently.

Huh. It was only five kilos of C4! I shouted to Kristy as the glass partition next to us shattered. You're the frickin' engineer, not me! s he shouted back.

Everything was destroyed in that explosion. A moment later small explosions detached the cables of the lift, rendering the lift inoperable and stuck at some floors.

You jump, I jump

We got into the Lounge area, inspecting closely for any sign of life. I put a few bullets into a few bodies that twitched. Sometimes freshly dead bodies still twitch, I know, but I like to be sure. Kristy did the same. The wind and the rain dampened the inner side of the shattered windows.

Barely a few minutes had gone past since the explosion first occurred. Kristy and I stood on the ledge, we had parachutes on, and were ready to do some crash course on base jumping.

Both of us were keen parachutists, out of a plane, but base jumping is altogether a different thing. For one, we weren't sure whether we were high enough. Sirens blared on the streets, the fire engines were coming, the police not too far behind, and we had to go somewhere.

Ladies first, always. I smiled, but was I surprised when Kristy pushed me off the ledge suddenly! Aaaack!!! She jumped immediately after, both our chutes deploying immediately. Our drop zone was dependant on the wind , she yelled at me.

I looked down and saw The Ritz, construction sites, parking areas and a whole load of cars.

I told you this woman was crazy.

THE ARMY CAPITAINE is a family man who finds himself in the strangest situations all the time. His hapless editor ends up wiping up his mess half the time. Email him at armycapitaine@yahoo.com .