An Experiment in Streetfighting
I gripped my opponent by the wrist and the side of his neck, blocking his punches and ducked under his flailing arms to pull him tight to me. Yanking on his wrist, I forced the wolf to stagger, and put all his weight on one leg. Taking advantage of the opening I created, I shot my hips into his, I then shifted his body using the grip I had on his neck to shift his body weight up and move his hips to be perpendicular to mine. I then placed the inside of my paw into the bridge of his muzzle to shove him across my body while I shift my hips to be behind his. His weight was now mostly on one leg, high up on his body, and backwards. I could see his grey furred tail lying flat against his side, and arms flaling outwards, futilely trying to balance him out.
With the beginning of a violent exhalation, I brought my right leg up and swept it back down as hard as I could into the back of the leg that most of his body weight rested on. I continued to bring my leg up behind me, pushing his legs up and over his head while I brought the arm that held his head down, violently. The wolf was completely inverted in midair, being pivoted over my pelvis, I used this momentum to sprawl my legs back while still holding his head. Now that my legs were away from his body, I used all the strength in my arm to slam the back of his fuzzy head into the concrete below us. His head connected with a sharp yet muffled crack into the artificial stone, ensuring either extreme pain or unconsciousness, and luckily it was the latter. His body crumpled over his head in a very awkward position before rolling backwards over his head. The grey furred head grinded against the pavement before flopping over and leaving him resting chin and belly down with a dark bloody stain spreading from the back of his head and a skinned and bloody abrasion on his eyebrow ridge.
Hopping lightly to my feet I shot my right leg up and brought it down in a drop kick that connected the back of the heel of my rough out boot on the top of his muzzle, eliciting a loud pop and a bloody gurgle as blood exploded out of his nose and mouth. Im sure hell be digging his own teeth out of his gums when he wakes up.
I swept my vision and saw one of the wolfs buddies, a coyote, like me, in a way too large white t-shirt, charging with a small lead pipe clutched in one paw and behind me a brown mutt with a short utility knife raised up above his head. I focused on the coyote because he was bringing the pipe down on an intercept course with my mottled brown furred head. With no way to completely dodge the swinging pipe, I tilted my head in the direction of the swing and shrugged my shoulder, letting the pipe impact the meat of my shoulder. With a thud, and an explosion of pain in my shoulder, the pipe connected, but luckily nothing popped. Painful, but survivable and momentarily forgettable in the heat of the fight, unlike if it had connected with my skull.
The force of the coyotes swing sent him bouncing on one leg and passed the mutt with the knife, making the mutt a more immediate threat as his upraised knife came in an unaimed downward sweep. I pivoted on my feet and brought my left arm up and under the stabbing knife, allowing my own forearm to knock the knife slightly to the side, and as the mutts handpaws came low enough I pressed my own paws to the top of his arm to continue the arc of the stab and angle the knife correctly. The knife continued its arc down and into the tough flesh of his thigh, it stabbed his leg an inch or so above his knee, most likely cutting a tendon.
The mutts paws spasmed in pain and loosened their grip on the knife to clutch at his knee, I grabbed the knife and pulled it out of his thigh. As soon as it was clear I plunged the knife back into him, this time in his groin. I used the momentum from his charge, and the bite of the knife in his privates to lift him and throw him over and away from me. As the knife was being pulled free, however, it caught on something in his pants and was yanked from my paws, leaving me unarmed once again.
As I turned around, I briefly recognized the uncertain looks on many of the surrounding gang members faces. I ignored them in favor of locating the coyote with the lead pipe, which happened to be right in front of me swinging the lead pipe like a club straight down with both hands. With no other option, I began to leap into the coyote, head butting him right below the ribs and into his solar plexus. With a thud that reverberated through my entire body, I felt the pipe connect with the small of my back, the edge cutting into my flesh through my shirt and fur, and causing me to exhale in a pained gasp. I pressed into the coyote harder, stopping his momentum completely with my head, and his diaphragm. I recognized the pained oomph and wheezing gasp as I grabbed the back of his knees and pressed forwards, lifting him and running his body back, while I lifted his legs by the tendons on the back of his knees. He landed heavily on his back and coming to a rest while I kept my feet peddling, powering over his prone form to grab the arm with the pipe.
Straddling the stunned and wheezing coyotes face, I pulled the pipe arm to my chest, digging my knee into his throat, and smashing my elbow into his forearm, bending it the wrong way until it snapped. I felt the coyotes body lurch as he reflexively tried to scream, but his spasming diaphragm and my knee on his throat kept him doing anything but clack his teeth together and flail helplessly. The pipe clanged noisily to the pavement, and I snatched it up and rushed to my feet as quickly as I could. As soon as the broken coyotes airways were clear, he started a horrible, short croaking bark that sounded like a wounded and scared bullfrog, and it sounded worse and worse as the seconds passed by and he was able to force more air into his painful lungs. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, his mouth open wide, his disgustingly broken arm cradled around his midsection.