KNOCK OUT.

She pulled out the mats, eventually. It was then that he found himself clad with a plain grey shirt and shorts and face-to-face with one combat-ready Melinda May.

He could only watch her as she changed her stance. Well, she was definitely a sight to be seen. And when her eyes closed on to his and her fists were already clenched, he knew that she was ready to attack.

And attack she did.

After what it seemed to be a split-second, she almost landed a kick on his torso, if only he didn't miraculously evaded the hit. He had almost let out a sigh of relief, in admittance that he was not really expecting that his opponent when he resumes his sparring sessions since New York is one as capable as her because she was certainly the best that he could ever have.

He saw a familiar smirk grace her features, telling him that she was just getting started. In response, he merely smirked back at her and shrugged.

And maybe made a silent little prayer or two to whoever it was who was listening that he would do anything to survive this ordeal.

In less than a minute, Phil Coulson finds himself staring at the ceiling of the bus' cargo hold with his back against the mat.