You raise your hands and slowly walk toward the two soldiers. As soon as one of them is in striking range, you grasp the side of his head, quick as lightning, and slam it hard into one of the wooden roof supports. He crumples, unconscious.
The second soldier barely has time to react before you lash out at him. He ducks, then swings, but your guard is up and his blow comes to nothing. Then it's just a simple matter of a hard kick to the stomach, which sends him reeling backward. He collapses onto a pottery stall, crumpling the table under his weight and bringing its fragile load crashing onto his head in a shower of ceramic shrapnel.
People are running, now screaming and shouting, away from the altercation, and the commotion is attracting more attention. You spot more soldiers running toward you, one pair coming through an arch leading out onto a main street and another heading down a narrow alley into the back of the souk. With no options left, you pick the third and final exit from the bazaar, ducking out onto a crowded thoroughfare with the cries of the soldiers ringing in your ears.
You break into a run, feet pounding on the gleaming cobbles, then take a hard left into a side street, breaking their line of vision. You hear both men cry out and begin pursuit.
You just have time to notice that you're on the Via Dolorosa when you feel strong hands grab you from the side and haul you off the street into a narrow, dark, deserted alleyway.
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