Their skulls collide so forcefully that Vincent can feel his teeth chattering, jaw attempting to physically relocate itself from the scene of such violence. He can't see a goddamn thing, but he certainly feels when his opponent fights past his spirited resistance and begins strangling him.

A choked gasp escapes him, forced out along with the rest of the air in his throat. He retaliates immediately, pushing past his throbbing head and blinded vision with the sort of power that only adrenaline can provide. He'd been unable to prevent this from happening, but his hands were still clutching onto Kit's; they turn from a vice to claws, ripping and tearing deep into every inch of his wrists and hands he can reach. If he hits anything sensitive then his foe will bleed out long before he loses consciousness.

His legs move as well, fighting underneath Kit's bulk to slam into him repeatedly with as much force as he can possibly muster given the current circumstances. It would be far wiser to simply admit defeat after being backed into such a corner, but the thought never crosses his mind. He refused to go down until the other boy had expended every last ounce of energy on him.