The sound of breaking glass; harsh, sharp yet somehow still satisfying. Except when that glass is from a bottle meant to be used in a bar fight. Silver whirled toward it. Though that meant she now had her back to one of her assailants, the broken bottle signified a larger threat than a bare-handed bully. The edges were sharp and jagged, dripping with whatever disgusting swill had so recently been contained. She tried not to watch it, needing to keep her attention upon the man as well. He advanced slowly, almost warily, licking his lips as he eyed her. Meanwhile behind her, unseen, the second of the pair darted forward. His thick arms wrapped around, pinning her arms to her side.
Not good. Not good at all. Silver grimaced, the air squeezed from her lungs. The one with the bottle came closer. Luckily for her, but sadly for him, she stood a good five or six inches taller than either. Her reach was longer, her legs especially so. She leaned back into the embrace, using her captor to take her weight. Kicking up and out, she managed to catch the bottle-wielder in the wrist, knocking the improvised weapon from his hand. It sailed away, smashing upon the floor nearby. She had meant to follow up with a second kick to the face, but he was too fast. A fist rammed into her abdomen. It would have knocked the breath from her if she'd had much to begin with. Her head snapped aside as a second blow landed against her jaw.
Well, if that was the way it was going to be...
Turning her head around again, she grinned at the man. It was a smile she certainly didn't feel, finding no humour in the situation at all, but she had learned early in life that showing weakness would only invite more pain. Hers wasn't going to be the larger one this time, however. With the man so close and so very unprepared, it wasn't too difficult for her to bring her knee up, striking him squarely in the danglers. Served him right; they were the ones who started it. And made it an unfair fight to begin with! Still, there was something vaguely satisfying in the way the mans hands flew to his crotch. The crossing of his eyes was particularly gratifying. The way they rolled back into his skull when her boot caught him under the chin as he was on his way to the ground, well that was really rather rewarding!
One threat taken care of, she still had her captor to deal with. Preferably before the one who had started it all got back to his feet. He squeezed more tightly, trying to take what little breath she had left. Given few options and little time, she had no choice but to act quickly. Tensing her arms, she pulled them sharply forwards, meanwhile pushing back with her posterior, breaking his hold on her. The moment she was free, she threw her head back, her skull connecting perfectly with his nose. The crunching sound it made as it broke under the impact was sickening.
She had no time to celebrate her liberation as another pair of arms wrapped around her at waist height. This time, however, they were followed by the full force of a body crashing into her own. Taken from her feet, she sailed sideways, hitting the floor with a painful thud. Squinting down, she found the young-blood who had started it all was wrapped around her. Still groggy from the head-shot to the table, he didn't move fast enough to capitalise on her new predicament. She, however, did.
Sliding a leg out from under him, she managed to aim a weak kick for his shoulder before he came back to something resembling his senses. Still, she wasn't quite quick enough, or agile enough these days, to get out of his grasp or away completely. He clambered up over her, eyes glassy but face still contorted with rage and hate. A fist landed against her cheek, knocking a tooth from its socket. Briefly stunned, she could do nothing to protect herself as his hands wrapped around her throat.
How many times had she been in a similar position? How many times had she felt such a thing before? This fight had too quickly gone from a tipsy youngster out to prove his manhood and place to an enraged man trying to end her life. Would he stop if she yielded? She doubted it. Was it worth it in the end? She had nothing left to prove. She'd retired, for goodness sake! This whole "Queen of the Treasure Hunters" thing was garbage and nothing that she had had a hand in. But surviving, keeping the promises she had made at all and any cost... that was certainly worth the world to her.
Rather than do the obvious thing and go for his wrists, she simply shot one hand upwards. Index and middle fingers extended about an inch apart jabbed quick and hard into his eyeballs. He jerked upright automatically, yelping in surprise and pain. That was all the chance she needed!
She made a grab for his wrist now and, as she threw her weight sideways into a roll, pulled him down and over with her. He landed facedown, she on her knees to his side and still with her grip upon his appendage. Perfect! Twisting it around and up, she shifted her weight to plant one foot firmly upon the floor, her other knee to the small of his back.
Movement caught her attention; the one with the broken nose was advancing again, presumably hoping to go unnoticed. Spitting her loose tooth onto the floor, she set her gaze firmly upon him. Plump lips stretched into an easy and pleasant smile; the same one she had hidden behind for decades. It usually served to present her as easy-going, but now appeared sinister and callous. Especially with the blood rolling down her chin.
"One more step," she said with a lightness that only made her words more chilling. "And I'll rip his arm off and use it to fist your whore tonight."
