Author's Note: This is a single-chapter short action scene, and my first upload.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

James stood still, pressed against the wall, clutching in his hand the sharp, curved knife, his heart thudding almost painfully in his chest. As he edged closer to the door, heart in his mouth, sweating, clutching the hilt so hard he had lost all feeling in is fingertips.

Then, on the other side of the wall was a bang, and a series of muffled thuds and yells. There was a sharp crack, followed by the crash of breaking glass and china, and the metallic, bell-like jangle of silver cutlery falling in a pile. More thuds accompanied the noise – rapid, the unmistakeable noise of hard, quick punches impacting a body. Amid grunts of pain and roars that seemed to be from a bull, there were more cracks and bangs as furniture was toppled over and smashed.

The sounds of a struggle continued, intensified, and the door, inches away from James, shuddered as a man was thrown at it. The doorknob rattled – and then the door shuddered again, the bang of a skull bouncing off the thick wood. More shouts – mixed in with them whimpers of pain and cries for mercy. The smashing of furniture and glassware, the noises that told James of the destruction inside the room. Then another series of rapid thuds, causing groans of pain.

James bit his lip, edging forwards wit agonising slowness, as he heard a thump, followed by a scream of pain and rage, and heard the thump of wood impacting with flesh. Another roar, more distinct "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU-" cut short by another thump, this time with another, sharper sound, as if a large thing such as a chair had struck somebody around the head and shoulders. There was another scream of rage, the splintering of the weapon that had struck the man who in the eye of James' mind was likened to a fighting bull. Sickening hollow thuds emanated from the room as the other man's skull impacted with the wall once, twice, three times.

However, he still resisted, as James heard clearly the yelp of pain from the bull-man, and the lapse in his strikes, and hurried footsteps as the other man staggered away from him. Another bang, and then a muffled crunch, and screams of pain, followed by dark things spoken in low, hate-laden voices, before a sharp crack echoed around the manor, and the unmistakeable smell of gunpowder drifted out into the corridor.

James closed his eyes, steeling himself a final time, before bursting through the door to face his assailant. A series of sharp thuds, the splatter of blood on the floor, a brief struggle for the gun punctuated by the thumps of heavy, quick blows and finally, a scream of despair, and a second crack, and a second waft of gunpowder.