By no means weak, Kit's physical capabilities were still very human. His greatest strength by far had nothing to do with the speed at which he could run or the power behind the blows his arms and legs could deliver. Above the ornate butterfly knife he'd left in his jacket pocket or even his own bare hands, Kit's preferred weapon and by far his greatest advantage...was his intelligence.

When last Vincent and he had fought, his movements had been clumsy and his strategy lacking. He'd been lucky to think as clearly as he had, to keep from cracking both their skulls wide open on the concrete steps in the stairwell, but he was a very different person now.

Unwavering in his calm, Kit awaited Vincent's close proximity before he finally showed any indication of moving, and then it was quick. A flash, even. Permitting the other boy to get in close enough, to reach out, and then he struck three blows in rapid succession. A sharp jab to the pressure point on the back of Vincent's hand, another driven into the radial nerve of his forearm, and the final hook across his jaw to send him reeling in the opposite direction, allowing him to spring off towards the left. From there he was able to assess his opponent and plan his next attack.