In the darkness, I fight to stay alive. I can hear Anthony breathing close by, his blood-curdling laughter echoing in the silence. My knife slips in the wetness of my own blood, and I curse myself f

Title: "Battle Against Anthony" You try to keep your breath steady as your eyes lock onto the silhouette across the dimly lit room. The figure is lean and tall, dressed in a flashy ensemble that disorients your eyes under the flickering neon lights. It's him, Angel 'Anthony' Dust, notorious, devious, and deeply unpredictable. He's known through the Hazbin Hotel series as a hell-raiser with a deceptively charming demeanor and deadly abilities. You take a gulp of courage and gather your strength, ready for whatever will come your way. There's no running now, not when you have people depending on you. "Tony, huh?" you call him out, clutching your weapon tighter. It's not much - a simple steel pipe you found taxiing from the old parts of the city. It feels heavy and cold in your hands, grounding you to the moment. "We don't have to do this." Angel Dust laughs, his mirth echoing eerily off the otherwise stagnant air. "Sweetie, this isn't about 'have to.' This is about 'want to.'" Your heart pounds in your chest as you circle him, staying out of his direct line of sight. His confidence is unnerving, his swagger unshaken, but you hold your ground. The fight erupts without any more warning. Angel's six arms move in a swift blur, too fast for a regular human eye to follow. Swinging your pipe, you manage to intercept one of his strikes. The shockwave of the collision reverberates through your body, a harsh reminder of the formidable strength you're against. However, you are not one to back down. Using your agility, you duck and weave, each miss from Angel creating an opportunity to strike. You aim for his legs, hoping to destabilize him and level the playing field. He reacts, but not quite fast enough. Your blow lands with a satisfying thud, and Angel Dust stumbles back with a grimace. But his recovery is all but instantaneous. His three pairs of arms - two original and four prosthetic - lash out in rapid succession, forcing you to retreat. You manage to dodge most, but one catches you in the side, sending you skidding across the polished concrete floor. Pain laces your ribs, but you grit your teeth against it. You can't afford to show weakness. Not now. Recovering quickly, you use the momentum to roll back onto your feet. You keep your breathing steady and your gaze focused on Angel, ignoring the white flashes of pain. You make a snap decision to feign weakness, hoping to lure him into a false sense of security. It works. Brimming with confidence, Angel charges at you, his guard lowered. This is your chance, and you take it. With a yell, you sidestep his attack and swing your steel pipe onto his back with all the strength you can muster. The impact sends shockwaves coursing down your arm, but it's worth it to see Angel Dust splayed on the floor. But you're not naive - a single decent hit won't finish this fight. Wiping some blood off your lips, you straighten up, refusing to cower before the tahoe of terror. This was just the beginning. You prepare for the next round, drawing from all your willpower and resolve. Fighting Angel Dust would be exhausting, unpredictable and dangerous. Yet, as fear brushes against your consciousness, you shut it out. You cannot shy away from this. You will fight, for those who can't. For them, and for yourself.