It was a mistake he would later regret.
The moment he pulled his weapon, she thrust her right hand into his throat as if hurling a javelin. It was a knuckle punch - what mobsters called a ‘bear claw’ and martial artists called a ‘panther fist.’ Her thumb was pulled tight, her palm distended, and her four fingers were curled to provide a hard striking surface. It was intended to slip under the chin in a way that a normal punch couldn’t.
It was the perfect choice for a taller target.
Her strike was so violent and so precise that it collapsed his trachea and damaged his vocal cords, temporarily rendering him mute. More importantly, the force of the blow and the pain of the impact caused him to lose his grip on the pistol. It flew from his hand and slid to the rear corner of the secret room, far from his immediate reach.
Unfortunately, all that did was piss him off.
Fueled by rage, the giant lowered his shoulder and charged at his opponent, driving her back toward the butcher’s station. She glanced over her shoulder as she stumbled backwards. Given the force he exerted, she realized that the table’s blunt edge would most likely crush her spine, so she dropped to the floor and allowed the brute to kick her underneath. She slid across the floor and quickly bounced to her feet. Staring across the table at the hulking guard, she waited for his next move.
She didn’t have to wait long.
The Russian grabbed a large carving knife from the butcher’s block. He grasped the edge of the table with his other hand. With little more than a swipe of his arm, the guard flung the heavy steel table across the room. It had taken four men to bring it into the freezer, yet he had tossed it aside with no more effort than swatting a fly.
He lumbered toward her, his eyes ablaze. He swung wildly, then caught his balance. Again he struck out at her, and again it took him a moment to regroup. Clumsy as he was, she knew that he only needed to connect once. With his fury and strength, one blow would take her head clean off.
After his third swing, she struck back. The moment the blade sliced past, she stepped forward and delivered a vicious jab to his lower abdomen. The bastard barely winced, so she changed her approach and went for his face. She aimed for the bridge of his nose, but connected with his orbital cavity. It felt like she had punched a cement wall. Almost instantly, his eye swelled shut. Blood trickled down his cheek from a wide gash under his brow, but he shrugged it off like a boxer in the ring.
He swung again, but this time she defended the strike. She knew she could never fully stop his arm’s momentum, but by focusing her block on his wrist, she was able to disarm him. The impact sent the knife flying across the room. Unfortunately, the guard followed this blow with a punch to her ribs, which sent her flying across the room in the opposite direction.
The guard took the opportunity to retreat into the hidden room. After scanning the floor, he found what he had come for and grabbed the pistol.
Time to end this, he thought.
Standing in the doorway between the rooms, he grew confused. He had expected to find her crumpled in the corner of the freezer, coughing up blood from his vicious blow. But she wasn’t there, or anywhere, that he could see. He moved forward to investigate.
Unbeknownst to him, she had scrambled across the floor and taken refuge behind the door. The instant he was fully inside the freezer, she slammed the door shut behind him. Darkness swallowed them both.
Without light, they were forced to rely on sound, and the only thing they could hear was each other’s labored breathing. The giant pointed his gun in the direction of the door and fired. He held his breath, hoping to hear the squeal of his victim, but was greeted by silence.
He fired again … then again … then again.
Each time aiming in a different direction.
Each time coming up empty.
Her matte-black bodysuit helped her stay hidden in the maze of dangling carcasses. With every flash of the guard’s pistol, she moved closer and closer to her target. Once she had narrowed the gap to three feet, she made her move.
She swept her foot violently behind his knee, knocking his leg from under him. As he crashed to the floor, she launched herself toward the ceiling. Clutching the hanging side of beef as if it were a rope swing, she cut the nylon line of the hoist with a cleaver. In an instant, the combined weight of herself and the steer crashed down upon the guard. His hip took the brunt of the impact, shattering like fine china.
She stood and illuminated the scene with her flashlight. The guard’s face conveyed the intolerable pain of his broken hip. Tears streamed down his chubby cheeks.
Thankfully, she had the perfect item to ease his pain.
Wrapping her hands around the brass knuckles that she never left home without - she had yet to meet a man who could withstand more than one good punch - she reared back and knocked out the giant with a powerful hook to his chin.