I can hear the blood pumping in my ears as the first one walks in. Tall, must be twice my size and maybe my weight, white hair. Looks like a cartoon just like everything else. The worst part is he's talking to someone. This is gonna be a problem. I'm gonna get my shit pushed in. I wouldn't get into a fight like this even if I was... myself. At least not without a weapon, but I really don't have a choice here. It was either rush him, do as much damage as I can, and hope I can take the other guy or risk going down here. My body tenses up and my head leans toward him a little. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, but I'm going to try a sweep takedown from behind. Chokes are out, I'm not gonna get one off with someone behind him, behind [b]me[/b]. Sweep it is. This is it. Here goes nothing.

I breath out in a sharp huff as I push myself off the wall. I must've moved pretty quick because by the time I got to him he hadn't turned around yet, but it felt like it took a few seconds to reach him even if it was less than half of one. I took three steps, then a stutter step. Even up my right foot. I swam my right hand up toward his face to try to catch him in the throat, anything that I could grab onto and use to inflict some pain, but my short reach didn't help me and I grabbed him by the collar instead. My left hand shot an open palm into his stomach as I maneuvered my left foot as far back as I could manage between the gap in his legs. My hips swung into him from behind as I dropped my weight, pushing on his torso with my left hand and tugging on his collar with my right. Pain shot through my still-sore wrist and I felt the weakness in it but I couldn't stop now. My tiny frame worked in my favor this time around. I could drop my weight a lot farther to the ground, and he began to roll over my hip. I shouted at some point in the throw, a desperate war cry, but I don't remember doing it.

But I fucked something up.

It all happened in less than a second, but it felt like it took forever, and then I realized where I screwed myself down the line. From the very beginning. I threw the wrong guy. I jacked up the throat grab. The move took too long and I was too small and weak to do it right. He didn't hit the ground, he just stumbled backward over me as he tripped over my tiny body. The guy with the silver lockes ran himself backward into the arms of a punk behind him, a little shorter, black hair with red highlights. Now I was cornered. I attempt to correct myself by following with a push kick that would've knocked the two of them down if I was my larger self, but pushed [i]me[/i] back as I rebounded off of the guy's torso. But they were in the doorway. Reacting quickly, desperately, and pretty damn retarded when I realized midway through doing it that I wouldn't be able to keep them out, I attempt to force the door close on them. Maybe I was thinking I could slam it in their faces and lock it, giving me enough time to jump out the window or at least grab some kind of weapon. Maybe I thought that I could catch an arm or a leg in the door and break it by torquing it against the door frame. Either way, it doesn't work. They caught the door, and I put my full weight against it in a pathetic and futile attempt to close it as I grunted against the strain, wrist searing with agony.