The Vanguard Vixen

Bad choices

Turana faced off against the soldiers.

"Okay guys, there's two ways this can go."

She was interrupted when one of them, launched himself at her with a loud battle cry.

Turana delivered one crisp jab with base of her palm, under his jaw and there was a sickening crack as he crumpled to the ground.

She continued, not taking her eyes off the rest, "We could all find our way out of this place before those jets burn us alive, or you'll all end up broken like your buddy there. Or worse."

They didn't hear a word she said.

Bad choice.

The closest one swung at her and she ducked under the blow, then popped him in the gut and dragged him by his collar across the room.

"Come on guys, it is not a fair fight. At least ten of you against me. Street fighters against Vanguard military special forces, bare knuckles, no rules. Do we have to do this?"

The one she was holding tried to hit her again, and missed. Again. She feinted with a left jab and threw in a huge right hook that caught him on the ear. He wobbled for a second and then went down on his butt. Just sat there, blinking, no longer able to recognise where he was.

Another two came forward, all smiles, dancing around like performance artists. They had no idea, no idea at all.

They stepped in and bobbed and weaved for half a minute, up on their toes, jiggling around, ducking and diving, wasting time and energy. Turana stood perfectly still and gazed at them, wide eyed with peripheral vision, focusing nowhere and everywhere at once, hyper alert, watching their eyes, hands and feet.

Soon enough the left jab came in. The obvious first move, for any right handed gutter rat who thought they were in a boxing ring. Any left jab followed the same basic trajectory as the straight left, but much less forcefully, because it was powered by the arm only, snapping out from the elbow with no real contribution from the legs or upper body and shoulders.

Turana moved her own left hand fast and slapped at the inside of the guy's wrist, hard enough to alter the line of the incoming jab, hard enough to deflect it away from her face and send it buzzing harmlessly over her moving shoulder.

Her shoulder was moving because she was already driving hard off her back foot, jerking forward, twisting at the waist, building torque, hurling her right elbow into the gap created by the guy turning counterclockwise an inch, aiming to hit him with the right elbow right on the outer edge of his left eye socket, hoping to crack his skull along the line of his temple.

No rules.

The blow landed with all her weight of moving mass behind it, a solid jarring impact Turana felt all the way down to her toes. The guy staggered back, and fell.

She sent a vicious uppercut under the chin of the second one who had joined the fight after seeing his buddy fall. The guy's head snapped back in a mist of blood and bounced forward again off his massive neck muscles.

As he stepped back dazed she sidestepped a blow from the left as more of them started coming at her. She put a forearm smash from the right into the throat of her most recent attacker, a real home run swing, and then kneed him in the groin, danced behind him and kicked him hard in the back of the knees, a sweeping action that made his legs fold under him and he went down heavily on his back.

Five blows, four seconds.

No rules.

Second string mercenaries against Vanguard military.

But these guys were tough. Or afraid. Or both. Either way they didn't quit.

A loud thunderclap sounded in the distance as the first F360 accelerated and went faster than sound, zeroing in on them.

Turana did a few rough calculations in her head and started a mental countdown. It would take thirty seconds for the first one to be close enough to launch a missile accurately.

She had to be gone by then.

The ones left were circling now, a little unsure, seeing the writhing bodies of their comrades on the ground.

Movement.

Turana ducked low and snapped out her left foot, driving it through the guy's knee, strong enough to crash though the cartilage and bend the knee the wrong way. He opened his mouth to howl, but a swift blow to the side of his head lowered it to only a slight whimper as he fell unconscious.

Before Turana had waited and watched, just in case. Now, she was sure these were amateurs, and the impending doom in the form of advanced aircraft heading towards them was a good motivator.

The next received three quick strikes in succession, an elbow in the gut which made him bend, a kick to the side of the head which spun him a whole one eighty degrees before she shoved him into the three that were left.

They struggled to hold the unconscious weight of their friend before tossing him to the side, but the delay was more than enough for Turana to attack once more.

A roundhouse to the neck threw one head first into the wall where he collapsed immediately, then she caught hold of a fast approaching set of knuckles, twisted the wrist to a very unnatural position, then used her palm to snap the joint in his elbow. He cried out and used his other hand to try and hold his broken limb in a more comfortable position, which opened up a gap for Turana to deliver a bone crushing fist to his throat.

The sounds of agony and cries of pain filled the room as Turana walked to the last man standing. He kept stepping away till his back was against the wall.

"Please don't hit me."

"Too late, you made your choice and it was not a good one."

A second thunderclap drew her attention away, reminding her of the crisis in the sky. Fifteen seconds between each jet. The first would be close enough to fire in less time.

"I know my way through the tunnels. I can help you, please don't kill me."

"I haven't killed any of your friends. But those jets will. If sometime ahead it comes out that you were lying just to save yourself, you will be the first I kill."

He nodded solemnly just as the humming sound of the first jet reached them.

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