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She was winning . That’s the most infuriating part. There’s one of her and three of them, but Kamaria was winning until they decided to cheat.
It’s not that she’s against fighting dirty. Roderick didn’t exactly teach her a code of conduct for fights, he taught her to survive , in whatever way necessary, and to make sure she got the job done in the meantime. But fighting dirty is one thing. Bringing drugs into a fight is another game entirely.
The pain barely registers at first. It’s nothing like a broken bone or a stab wound, just a tiny prick in her shoulder blade that she ignores until her arm stops cooperating. It works still, technically, but it’s sluggish. She can’t afford for her body not to respond correctly in the middle of a fight like this. Immediately it costs her a punch to the face, sending her stumbling backwards a couple of steps.
“Not the face!” one assailant shouts.
The puncher waves a hand at him. “Eh, it’ll heal.”
Their concern over her face would be disturbing if she had the focus to spare for it. But the slightly numb, sluggish feeling is spreading down her side and across her back, so she has to work twice as hard to keep the fight going.
That’s when a fourth man emerges from the trees. She should have known he was there. Why didn’t she know he was there? She’s supposed to notice every detail - not the ones like tiny bits of pain in her body, pain is made to ignore. But a fourth attacker? Roderick would beat her for a mistake like that. Will beat her, most likely, for getting into this whole fight at all… if she actually makes it back.
Which is starting to look less likely by the second. The fourth man is holding a dart gun in his hands. The pieces begin to connect in her mind - the prick in her shoulder, the numbness - she’s been drugged.
A mild panic sets in, quickly growing stronger. She has to get out of here, now . Whatever this is, it’s working fast, and pretty soon she’s not going to be able to defend herself at all. And somehow she gets the feeling that killing her is not what they have in mind.
Her other arm starts to feel heavy. With a shout of exertion, Kamaria forces it into motion anyway, swinging in a wide arc and managing a deep slice across the chest of one man who’d stepped in too close. He slumps forward, eyes widening as his hands press into the blood flow.
The momentary victory spurs her on. Maybe there is a chance of getting out of this, after all. She removes a throwing knife from her gauntlet and slings it at the man with the dart gun, but it slips from her fingers clumsily and entirely misses the mark.
No one is attempting to move in for the kill. The more her body fails her, the more they hang back, wasting time. Just waiting for her to succumb so they can pounce.
Cowards .
In a burst of anger, she lunges forward, determined to take another of them down. It’s at that exact moment that the drug makes it into one of her legs. Suddenly off balance and stumbling, she crashes sideways into a tree trunk, instinctively swinging her knife out again. The remaining three are playing it smart now, though, hanging back out of her reach. They form a half circle in front of her as she tries desperately to force her body back into motion, watching with eager gazes.
She’s not going to be able to fight anymore. She’s going to be helpless to stop them from whatever they want to do to her. If she passes out, she won’t even know what was done. If not, she’ll be aware of every bit of it. She’s not sure which is more terrifying.
Once more, she tries to stand and fight, but her legs give out and she lands on her hands and knees. “Don’t touch me!” she growls immediately, shoving herself back up against the tree. For now, she’s able to hold the knife out, but her whole arm shakes. “I can…still kill you.”
The smirks on her assailant’s faces just grow bigger, and they step in a little closer, predators closing in for the kill. Kamaria’s heart pounds faster with each second. Every bit of her screams, run run run run! but her body won’t cooperate.
Seconds later, her arm drops to the ground. She stares at it in horror, willing it to lift, pleading for anything in her body to move, but it’s no use. She’s paralyzed.
Her eyes flick back up to her attackers just in time to see them moving in with outstretched hands.