Hana easily ducked under the huge guy's fist and bolted for the others. Adrenaline took over unintentionally, and she vaulted into the air and landed a foot directly in the center of one guy's chest. Her feet landed like an inexperienced cat, but she ducked and rolled away from a wide swing of another opponent. He tried stomping on her, but his attacks were never quite fast enough to outmaneuver her rolls. She managed to roll far enough and kicked his legs out from underneath him. A forth man grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her up. She slapped wildly at his face until slamming her knee into his groin.
Then a blow connected against the back of her head, and she collapsed face-first into the pavement. Her ears rang loudly, and her mind was vaguely aware of her hands clawing at the ground. Then she flipped over onto her back, and the punk slapped her hard across the face. Strangely, it didn't hurt as much as past ones. Either this guy was weaker than he looked, or she was getting used to the tingly sensation. He yanked her back by her hair and grabbed her bicep viciously, dragging her back into the midst of them.
Hana grabbed wildly at him, and a second man helped him hold her upright, arms stretched in opposite directions at her sides. The largest man marched toward them, his cruel intentions obvious by the heat in his eyes. His hit was superior to his entourage. The standard open palm disappeared beneath his tightly bound fingers, and pronounced, uneven knuckles struck the corner of her left eye. The contact flung her head violently, and if they didn't hear the crack of her neck, she certainly felt it. Even with the red and black lines streaking her vision as he struck again across the other eye.
Somewhere, though, beneath that tear-stinging pain, an instinct took hold of her psyche. It whispered in her ear subtly, its voice lurking toward her. Then one of the guys loosened his hold on her arm, and the voice screamed. She twisted her arm out of his grasp, yanked him head-first into the guy on her other side, and stumbled underneath a suppressive swing from the mountain of pain. She couldn't see clearly, but her feet drove her away from the stampeding predators following suit.
She couldn't outrun them; she knew she couldn't. Adrenaline worked miracles, but it wasn't omnipotent. The body had its limits, and hers was showing signs of protest as her lungs seared with pain and her eyelids threatened to swell straight over her blurring pupils. Oh God, the pain was excruciating.
"Can't force loyalty."
Her feet would go no further in the sprint, and, for some reason, she was glad for it. She turned on the guys, who panted dangerously at her, exerted but not tired. They were just warming up. She was near the main street now; she could scream for help. But she caught the leader's sneer and felt her feet charge toward them with a loud cry. She ducked under the swing, down far below his waist, and grabbed his ankles then flung him head-over-heels across her back. The next fist was blocked, but the third connected with her jaw.
It brought her down instantly, but she kicked the bastard before he could kick her. The largest guy forced her arms down and straddled her hips. His knuckles found her face again, and the strength evaporated from her limbs. But she wouldn't cry for help. She wouldn't!
"He's beaten. Helping him would kill what little pride he has left. It's a fighter's mentality, you wouldn't understand."
A fighter's mentality.
"And a Crow never gets walked on."
Never gets walked on. The thought consumed what little consciousness she still possessed, but it was enough. She bucked her body hard, fixing her feet beneath her, and then twisted her hips. The abrupt retaliation threw him off enough that she pulled her leg up and thrust it into his crotch at full force. He swore and collapsed on his side, but his men were ready to jump in.
