Stand your ground!

You inch your feet back into a combat stance, slowly sliding the phone back into your pocket. The mugger’s expression darkens, annoyed. ‘Phone. Wallet. Fucking now,’ he repeats, an edge sliding into his voice. ‘Come on, asshole. Whatever it is, it’s not worth it.’

She is, though.

‘Can I just –’ you begin, taking a step to one side, and as he tilts his head, distracted, you launch off from the ground into a **** snap-kick –

Which, thank Christ, connects.

His wrist snaps back with a satisfying click, and the knife clatters to the ground. You barely have time to register that before he dances backwards, though, sweeping his own leg around in a roundhouse that you just barely manage to duck under. He follows it up with a quick feint and elbow strike; you’re ready for the fake-out, though, and deflect the elbow with your own, leaving him exposed –

Then he makes a sudden dive between your legs, smacking into the ground and rolling, and you leap up instinctively, without thinking. He’s going for the knife, and as you spin to face him, your heel catches it – by happy, lucky, blessed accident – and sends it spinning into the shadows of the alley.

Blade’s out of the picture. At least for now.

The guy pops back onto his feet, into a fighting stance, breathing harder, now – and you study each other for a long moment. A sharp smile flashes across his face.

‘Not bad. They didn’t tell me you were trained.’

‘Sorry I wasn’t easy meat,’ you reply, even as your eyes search for the next opening, the right move, the way to end this quickly and decisively and now.

In the end, the decision’s taken away from you when the guy kicks dirt in your face and attacks, springing forward like a jungle predator, outlined for a single moment against the sky.