Rumble and tumble should be my new middle name because tussling with two blokes on the floor should be enough to earn me that title.
Kicking, and screaming, would also be considered as a possible contender on that list. So far, is going great, in my honest and humble opinion but I'm not the most objective person. Not since my face is plastered on the shiny floor in Zareen, with two burly men huddled on top of me.
Weighed down, with very little room to wiggle, I wait for the right opportunity to strike. My only advantage is that they aren't trying to kill me, just to abduct me.
So much better, right?
I can't see much but from what I can hear, there is an outright battle going on. I find relief in the fact that I can hear Mason shouting at Graham to move faster. I guess sawing off necks is quite a laborious task, while Graham shouts back for him to shut it.
All of that is accompanied by grunts, pained moans, loud thuds, and a lot of furniture getting destroyed.
The guy on top of me shifts ever so slightly, and I finally get some leverage, when I'm able to move my hand just a little bit more under me.
Collectively they must weigh over six hundred pounds, but I'm getting only half of that, and it won't be long before I'm crushed by their sheer weight.
I better pull a miracle out of my ass, because that's the only way out of this little sticky situation.
A guy lands in front of me with a loud thud, bloodshot eyes open wide, mouth hanging wide open, and just as luck has it, looking straight at me. He appears to be dead, or very close to dying.
Luckily he is still clutching to a morning star, not the most gracious weapon but that thing could do some damage.
With the very little leverage I've obtained, I grapple at the floor with my fingers, inching closer to the coveted weapon, and little by little freeing my hand.
I'll have what I can get, and this might do sufficient damage to get them, and with a little luck, they will shift their body weight off me so I can have a little wiggle room and throw them off me.
Once I manage to wrap one finger around the hilt of the mace, I tug with as much strength I can muster, while trying my best to ignore the fact that my chest is about to crack from the sheer pressure of their weight.
It takes me a while to wrap another finger, my breathing now is getting shallower by the minute. As long as I'm alive, I suppose it doesn't matter if I've been mutilated in the process.
Once my third finger is wrapped around the mace I take my chances, and tug on the mace, but the man's grip on it is too tight, and it won't budge.
Damn it.
Another body flies over, skimming the guy at the top of the pile, making him shift his weight just long enough for me to get a whole arm free.
Nice.
Forcefully tugging on the mace, I manage to pull it free, and in one aimless swing, I impale it in something soft and fleshy.
The guy grunts, shifting his weight at the sudden jolt of pain, and I manage to wrangle myself in a different position. Not better than the previous one but, I can finally see from the corner of my eye that the mace is impaled in the guy's shoulder, while they begin to bicker over the fidgeting.
The guy on top of me locks eyes with me and sneers at me, while pulling the mace out of his shoulder, blood dripping everywhere.
I reach for his hand right before he tosses it away, and snatched it out of his hand, and hit again but this time, it lands in his temple with a sickening squelch.
I feel his dead weight immediately while the guy on top shifts again to get to me while pulling his arm back, and I already know he is going to try to knock me out.
I pull the mace out of the guy's temple, while the man thrusts his arm towards my face, I swipe it away with the mace, impaling it in his wrist, he screams, and shuffles off the pile. At least the other guy took it a little better.
While he fumbles to pull off the mace out of his wrist, I finally manage to free myself and fucking breath.
He doesn't get the chance to land another punch, because, in the time he took to lick his wounds, I've procured myself a blade from the floor and stuck it into his temple. I'm not anything, if not efficient.
I've never been a violent person. I'm all for peace and prosperity, but I have my limits.
The guy falls to the floor with a loud thud, a dying groan leaving his lips while I turn my attention to the room.
Mason is cornered by three men on one side of the room, fighting his way out, while Graham has his problems to worry about.
I may not be at their level, but I'm angry as hell that this is my life right now.
I pick up several blades off the floor and tuck them in my pockets and boots.
My presence garners the attention of those left standing. After all, the prize for my apprehension offers them an incentive to put their backs on it.
There was some sort of silent understanding in the eyes of each and every person present in the room. It's simple really. It's them or us.
On any other day, I would have taken the time to consider the implications of my decisions. But at that moment, it is the easiest decision I've ever made in my entire life.
They can have a go at me, but the people I love are off-limits.
Someone charges on my right and without even thinking about it, I launch the blade at him, it strikes him in the chest but that doesn't stop him. When he is close enough I kick him for a good measure, driving the knife to the hilt. He drops, choking in his blood.
That doesn't deter the others from making a move, as they corral and charge in unison but they don't make it very far.
They begin falling like flies, one by one starting a back of the throng, my eyes wildly searching for the saviour who has decided to join our fold.