There were a few reasons for Sombra Alley not to come to Alexander himself. The least and most obvious reason was that his bad leg was behaving especially hellishly today. So he sent a note. He asked a student to take it to Dr. Barclay for him, and it was the most impersonal note conceivable. A very simple square of pale yellow post-it (classic; Alley was not much for neons) with a very simple message written in black ink, in a solid, unimaginative hand.
Barclay,
Have something in office. May be of interest.
Alley
It would probaby be a few minutes before Alexander found the time to come, so Sombra leaned back in his music appreciation chair, steepled his fingers under his chin, and allowed himself the luxury of a small smile.
He was dressed well, in something more...mage-esque than what he usually wore; it was all-black, that much stayed the same. But it was well-made, and most definitely not modern. It was stiff, high-collared, and the shirt (or jacket, or tunic, or hybrid of the three) was embroidered in silver thread that looked more than a little arcane. His hair was down, one lock hanging with a silver thread braided into it.

Alexander smiled when he received the note. He kept smiling all through his next class--I wonder what his students thought, and if they were frightened by the caliber of the smile--and on his way to Sombra's office.

Alexander is dressed in his usual. This is only because the invitation--it's an invitation, not a summons--was somewhat... unexpected, and therefore, he didn't have a chance to... prepare.

That's okay. His usual is quite good enough.

And he makes it a point to be prepared for nearly any circumstance...

Though I doubt this one has occurred to him.

He walks in without bothering to knock.

"Yes?"

Sombra had gotten up only moments before, and he smiled and dipped his head regally when Alexander entered. He was standing (ramrod-straight again) with his cane, at the back of a chair significantly less comfortable than the one he used for listening to music. The arm not occupied with his cane was angled elegantly around the chair, pressing an ornate knife ever-so-lightly against...

Keye whimpered through the gag (black silk. Sombra has style.) and blinked heavy, half-closed eyes as cold sharp metal touched his throat in conjunction with Alexander entering the room. His head hung down and sideways, his jaw slack around the dark farbric filling his mouth, and his eyes were unfocused.

"Something wandered my way this morning." Sombra said smoothly, the smile never leaving his face. "I think it's yours."

Alexander's moment of shock lasted about a millisecond. Then his face took on a deadly cold, angry cast, and the door shut behind him with a soft word. This without taking his eyes from Sombra's face.

"You," he said at last, after a long moment. "Have a death wish. Don't you."

It's not a question.

"I could have said the same thing to you, when you stuck your nose in my affairs, Barclay."
He laughed from the back of his throat, a deep, ugly sound. It was clear that he had used no magic, but he resonated to magical sight all the same, humming with an undercurrent of power.
Keye was already wounded. There were several deep cuts on his upper arms, still bleeding sluggishly. The areas around his elbows were chafed by ropes that held him to the stiff-backed wooden chair.
The chair, by the way, was old and deeply magical. The wood had a deep, lustrous red tinge to it. It had been used in many rituals, and most of them had to do with pain and blood. The knife was magical, too. It was designed to cut through flesh, metals, and most spells.
Sombra was using magical tools...but he hadn't touched his own magic.

Alexander is about ready to have a litter of kittens. And a cow.

His face is white. He's assessing Keye's condition and is turning whiter. His most instinctive reaction is to use power to staunch the wounds and rescue his boy. He knows better, though. Alley could so easily kill him before Alexander even began...

"You could have chosen a better place for a confrontation, Alley." His voice is conversational, but the undercurrents are of terror and anger and murder on his mind. "Such a public place. I prefer to settle affairs in private."

He's stalling, trying to think of what Sombra wouldn't expect from him.

"I would assume that you'd thought to lock the door. It seems to come so naturally to you."
He leaned his cane carefully against the back of the chair, and slowly curled his fingers into Keye's hair, wrenching the young man's head back so that his throat was exposed, the blade creating a tiny bead of blood where metal and skin met. Keye cried out, but dully, only half-aware of what was happening.
"This is a music room, Barclay. It's soundproof." Sombra chuckled again. "My magicking days are long over, but I still remember how to cut a throat."

"Cut his throat, Alley, and you will suffer hell long before you die."

Sombra wouldn't expect a physical attack. But there's no time. Alexander so much as makes a move towards the pair, Sombra will cut Keye's throat and that will be the end of it.

Well, no it won't, but it will be the end of Alexander's having a son.

"Ooh, classy."
Somehow, the subtelty of the faint sardonic tone of his voice, and the very slight curl of his upper lip only served to make the mockery more obvious.
"But so very cliche. I get so bored with hell sometimes, I wonder why no one can come up with better."

"My dear Alley, I mean every word. Force me to react instead of act, and I promise you, you will not enjoy the results."

What's that saying about a man with nothing left to lose...?

He lifted one shoulder nonchalantly.
"My response was quite serious as well. There's little anyone can do that I haven't already experienced."
He rolled his eyes upward in mock sympathy.
"Ah, Barclay, what can you do to get your abominably gangly creature out of this dreadful mess? But tell me, Barclay, doesn't he have a deathwish? Would I perhaps do well to honor that?"

"You haven't died yet."

He ignores the bit about Keye's deathwish. Because if he has to answer, he's not going to be able to keep his composure.

"It might be interesting." another shrug. He laid the knife down on Keye's leg, the point facing Alexander, and reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear.
"But would it really satisfy you?"

Knife = not at Keye's throat.

Alexander has long legs. This is never more apparent than when it takes him a step and a half to cross a room.

Knife = in Alexander's hand.

"It might not at that. I think I'll have to do something drastic first."

Sombra Alley no longer had the advantage. His eyes flew to the knife glittering sharply, and then they left it and focused on Alexander's eyes. Gripping his cane, white-knuckled in one hand, he used the the other (and the cane, again, as leverage) to hurl Keye, chair and all, towards Alexander and the knifepoint.
Limpingly, he backed away, a wild-animal fluidness in every line of his body, save where his bad leg was forced to take weight.

Alexander has no problem with using magic. Thus, Keye and chair are caught in a net of energy and set aside. Gently. And he's advancing on Sombra.

"You are much more trouble than you're worth, Alley," he snarls.

Maybe he can live without learning Sombra's secrets after all...

This...
Sombra's eyes flickered from side to side.
This isn't how it is supposed to go.
Pride and tenacity waged a fearsome war in his mind, and all the while his eyes stayed unshakably on Alexander's.
If I attack, he'll just use magic to--
It's worth a try.
A cane is longer than a dagger. Sombra lifted it and lunged, attempting to disarm Alexander.

((Kiki via almighty phone posting.))

Ow. That hurt.

Well, fine then. Alexander wouldn't use the knife. He'd just rip Sombra apart with his bare hands.

The eyes Alexander turned on Sombra? Not sane. At all.

He reached out and snatched for the hand weilding that nasty little cane.

He got it. Sombra made an inhuman hiss-spitting noise and bit down at Alexander's hand.
His eyes weren't exactly sane either. They were hard and empty, but flashing somewhere at the very back was feral fight-or-flight.

This is turning messy, observes the odd portion of Alexander's mind that is always watching things. (This is also the part that insults him when he does something stupid. He generally ignores it.)

He yelped something profane and backhanded Sombra with his unbitten hand.

Sombra (again) did not weigh very much. Alexander's blow was enough to knock him off his feet and send him sliding back into the wall with a crash.
As he struggled to get up, it became apparent that his bad leg was giving him trouble: he'd try to put weight on it, and only end up falling again.
Finally, he was on his feet, pressed against the wall and breathing harshly, his hair hanging wildly like inverted cobwebs over his white face.

... how did Alexander get that knife again...?

Oh, never mind. I suppose it was via magic or something equally unsporting.

And he advances on Sombra again, eyes dark and lips contorted in a rictus of rage.

You don't hurt his boy. Not without severe consequences.

Sombra stared at him, and the wild-animal flare died out of his eyes. They shuttered off, went hard and cold. Sombra stepped away from the wall, favoring his leg, and stood straight.
"Give me my cane."

"So you can hit me with it? No, Alley. I like having the advantage, and I intend to keep it."

Aw, darnit. Alexander found his calm again. He's ever so much more amusing when he's in a blind rage...

"As amusing as that would be..." he looked wistful for a moment. "I need it for more pressing purposes at the moment. If you please."
He wanted to retain as much dignity as possible at the moment, and without his cane to steady him, this was proving difficult.

"No."

... okay, Alexander's rather cruel. Can we excuse him, this once? We can be very angry with him next time he's cruel, I promise...

... oh, all right.

Bad Alexander.

He's playing with the knife. And with Sombra, I think. Just a little.

Well, wasn't that nice. Sombra had relenquished the knife...the knife that would cut through almost anything, including shields if he were to decide to put them up. No use jeopardizing his principals for that...so his magic remained dormant.
He just stared at Alexander, his steady gaze never wavering. He didn't seem to need to blink.

There was a brief pause, then Alexander turned away from Sombra, seeming to dismiss him as no threat, now that he lacked weapons--he does lack weapons, right?--and bent his attention on Keye.

That knife comes in handy for cutting bonds. Throats too, I suppose, but Alexander's more concerned with the less bloody uses at the moment.

Keye slumped limply when not supported by ropes, blinking sluggishly at Alexander and slurring something incoherent. He grabbed for his father's arm, but missed, and then looked as if he might cry. His pupils were dilated, and he couldn't seem to fix his eyes on Alexander's face, though he was trying.
And Sombra? Of course Sombra took advantage of the reprieve. He wasn't armed at the moment, but that didn't mean he didn't have other weapons.
There was a rattle, as a desk drawer opened and closed, and then Sombra had another knife.

Alexander started to lift Keye out of the chair, but the rattling sound distracted him. He glanced at Sombra and looked angry... and somewhat frightened.

"Shit."

He put Keye aside for a moment, reduced to simple desires and simple motivations. (Marvel.) Stay between his son and his enemy. Hurt Sombra for hurting Keye. Hurt him a lot.

"You don't plan to give up, I suppose?"

He's conversational again.

"No."
The knife turned in his fingers with a lazy effortlessness that suggested that Sombra was probably a bit more experienced in the usage of that particular weapon than Alexander.

I suppose it would be a stretch to hope that Alexander's size advantage will give him what he needs...?

"I didn't imagine so." Tight smile. "I certainly wouldn't."

Also? He has no problem with being hurt. Though if Sombra hurts Keye further, well...

He won't be responsible for the consequences.

Oh, and he's waiting for Sombra to make the first move, this time.

Was he waiting for Sombra to lunge or otherwise advance? Because that didn't happen. Sombra would never have been able to hold his own without his cane (and even with it...well, fighting one-handed just isn't an advantage).
He threw it.
He has very good aim, by the way, and he was aiming to kill.

Alexander is, luckily, fast.

Not, however, fast enough.

It caught him in the shoulder, about an inch below his collarbone, and it hurt. He cried out in rage and pain and more rage and his eyes were burning and there was something glowing and blue around his hands.

Alexander has good aim too. So there!

Sombra darted sideways, landed on his bad leg, and toppled. Ironically, it probably saved his life, leaving him on the ground, attempting to put out the flames that sprung up on his arm.
My knife arm, gods all curse him--
His power surged violently in reaction to the fury and the pain...but he managed to keep a lock on it. Barely.

Too late, Sombra. At least one god has already. Well, sort of. Anyway.

Alexander smiles around the pain--it doesn't look like a smile so much as a grimace--and touches his shoulder gingerly.

"Such a mess, Alley... And you're going to leave me to clean it up all by myself, too, aren't you."

He takes a quick step, then another, and he kicks Sombra. Hard.

"I can clean up my own--"
And then all the air was knocked out of his lungs, rendering him speechless. Well, he could at least be a hindrance. He wrapped around Alexander's leg, biting and scratching.

"Not if you're dead."

He staggers somewhat and trips over Sombra.

Poor Sombra. Alexander's heavy, and he fell hard.

That knife is still in his shoulder, you know.

Sombra snarled, giving a very good impression of a wolf with its teeth bared and its ears laid back. That hurt. That hurt a lot. But he couldn't afford to delay and nurse his pains. He went for the throat.
Yes, with his teeth.

I thought he didn't like to bite?

Alexander jerked backwards and snarled something angry and profane and dead-language-y. (I think this one was ancient Greek.)

And he seemed to realize that he still had Sombra's original knife in his hand and... Er.

Sombra better be inhumanly fast. That's not a range that allows for much...