"If you won't tell me, then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way," Sorah managed to tell her attacker as his grip tightened on her throat.
"Ooh. I like the hard way," he replied, a creepy grin on his face.
The man was twice Sorah's size, but she had no choice. She knew if she ever wanted to see Karla or any of her family again, it was going to be up to her. Up until now, she had played the victim, hoping to get some easy answers. In the holodramas, the bad guys always liked to talk and spill the chorga beans after he thought he had won.
She stopped trying to pry his hands from her throat, and shot her fist straight out, catching the man in the throat. It took him by surprise and he released his grip and let her go, backing up and fighting for his own breath now.
Sorah didn't let up. During her time in the gangs she had learned early on how to handle herself in a male dominated world. Nobody had handed her anything, and she sure as bantha poodoo didn't ride his coat tails. She moved straight into a martial fighting stance and launched a series of kicks, aimed at the stranger's midsection.
She hadn't allowed any time for him to recover, but he was good. Better than she'd hoped. Still gagging from the blow to his windpipe, he blocked her kicks and backed up. It was clear he hadn't been ready to deal with this. Apparently he had assumed she was some helpless waitress. He had been wrong.
Sorah didn't let up or give him time to recover. She rained a quick succession of punches and kicks, driving him further back.
Spinning, she threw a round house kick, heel aimed at his head, but this time he didn't block or duck, he stepped in and caught her leg. With pure brute strength, he swung her, using some of her own momentum from the kick to send her flying.
She slammed into the wall with a dull thud and crumpled to the floor. Quickly she tried to pick herself up, but he was on her too fast. Halfway to her feet, she caught a boot the ribs which slammed her back into the wall and back down to the floor.
He grabbed her by the hair, and jerked her to her knees, forcing Sorah to look up at him. "Oh, you don't know how I'm going to enjoy this. You can't imagine the pain and suffering you just added to your already horrible death."
"Please, no." Sorah begged, struggling to speak through the pain. "What if I'm good?"
"Good?" the man chuffed with contempt.
"Yeah, I'm sure there's... something... I can give you to convince you to end this quickly."
"There's nothing you can offer me that I can't and won't take from you," he sneered, then through his head back and laughed.
It was the opening she needed. Sorah drove her fists upward with all her might.
The stranger crumpled to the ground, moaning.
Sorah scrambled to her feet as the creep tried to do the same, but he was done. Over and over Sorah rained kicks and fist strikes on the stranger. He was able to block a few, but not enough; too distracted by the pain in his groin.
This time her round-house kick ended it, connecting solidly with his jaw. His head snapped back like it was on a hinge and the rest of his body followed in slow motion, tipping backward until he hit the floor like felled tree.
Sorah kicked him in the ribs for good measure.
------------------
The stranger woke up to the shock of being drenched with cold water. His head was still groggy from the fight and he struggled to make sense of what was happening. He was still in the warehouse room, but he couldn't move. Looking down he noticed he was now seated in the broken chair, but his hands and legs were lashed in place.
A hand grabbed his hair and jerked his head backwards and he found himself staring into the face of a very angry woman whom he was beginning to suspect might not really be a waitress.
"Now you're going to tell me what I want to know and I'll kill you quickly," she said. He noticed she had a length of durasteel re-bar in her other hand.
He smiled. "I'm not giving you any information."
She smiled a smile that had no humor. "I was actually kind of hoping you'd say that. You see, when I'm done with you, there's no relevant information in that brain of yours that I can't and won't take from you."
He heard the crack of his kneecap shattering when the re-bar struck.
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