It was a typical night. Santina had walked into town to prowl the streets. She did well to hide herself in shadowy niches behind bars and wait for sloppy drunken men to stumble upon her. She’d have them against the wall, her knife to their throat faster than they could soberly realize. Stealing from drunk men was easy. Most of the time they would cooperate, immediately handing over what they hadn’t already spent on drink, blubbering on about wives, children, lives… Santina had heard it all before. She didn’t care about their lives, only what was in their pockets.

On this particular night it was especially dark. Not even the light of the moon penetrated the alleyways in which Santina chose to lurk. A small group of men was coming around the corner, not seeming to be very much aware of their surroundings. Santina had already pinched herself a good bit from tonight’s passersby, and had intentions of letting this group go by without making herself known. She didn’t want to be too greedy, after all.

The five of them lingered at the opening of the alley, laughing and joking with each other as they stopped to take a piss just in the alley. Santina warily watched them. Suddenly, she heard the soft yet unmistakable scrape of boot against ground on her opposite side. Santina didn’t let on that she knew someone else was there, and kept up appearances to seem like her intentions remained on the group of men. With her heightened awareness, she picked up on the fact that these men didn’t choose this alley by mistake. She could make out the half-second glances in her general direction, the way their faces seemed strained around the edges of their fake laughter. She instantly understood that this was a setup, and her body became tense.

There was a slight crunch right behind her as her attacker leapt forward to grab her, and Santina could feel the air whoosh above her head as she ducked to miss the sweep of his arms. Spinning to one side, Santina gave a hard kick to the man’s waist, ramming him into the wall. The group of men came at her at once, shouting ¡Captúrala! Santina bolted for the end of the alley, knowing that it opened to another alley perpendicular to this one.

One of the men was quick, and jumped to tackle her. Grabbing her around the middle, he took her to the ground. With a swift elbow to his face, she could hear the crack of broken bone before rolling away and regaining her feet, but he was successful in slowing her down and another had grabbed her from behind. Santina was unable to go for her knife, so she stomped her heel down on his foot as hard as she could and when she felt his balance go off, she used her body to throw him over her shoulder. His head gave a loud smack as it hit the ground.

She quickly pulled out her knife, another man coming at her from the front. He held his fists out and swung at her, left then right. She swerved, then swerved again, feeling the air of his fists graze her face. Ducking low, she cut across his belly not deep enough to kill, just enough to make him bleed. He cried out, clutching at his abdomen, and Santina quickly spun around him, putting a knife to his throat as the last two men approached. The one on the left spoke first.

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, señorita. We just want to talk,” he said as he held his hands up. The man on the right followed suit, putting his hands up as well. The man in Santina’s arms struggled a bit, and she let her blade prick his neck. He audibly winced, but otherwise made no sound.

“Okay, dime. What do you want?” she barked back at them. The men looked at each other before the left one spoke again.

“We were sent here to kill you. You’ve been coming too close to our business for comfort. For that, you must die,” he had said plainly. Santina didn’t buy it for a second. She knew that her petty crimes were no infringement on the drug rings and prostitution that happened in the basements of the local businesses. It was something else. But she played along.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m just trying to get by. Por favor, don’t hurt me.” Her grip tightened on the man in her arms.

“Lo siento, señorita. It has to happen. Just let him go, and we’ll make it quick.”

Santina fixed a pained expression on her face, and made as though she was going to let the man go. Suddenly the man on the right pulled out a pistol and fired at her. Santina was waiting for them to make a move and had held her hostage fast, letting the pistol-wielder empty his gun into the chest of her victim. Once she hear the first click of the empty barrel, she dropped the limp man and threw her knife at the pistol-wielder, the blade landing hilt-deep in his eye. Shocked, the man on the left froze. Santina used the opportunity and lunged forward, grabbing him by the arm and swung him around into the wall, pinning his arm behind him with his face against the wall. With her free hand, she pulled another knife out and put it to the side of this face.

“¡No mas juegos!” she growled into his ear. “Why are you here?!”

“We were sent here to test you,” he grunted out. Santina paused, taken aback by his answer.

“A test? A test for what?”

“Some of the local crews caught wind of the work you’ve been doing. We were given orders to feel you out and see if we can work something out,” he replied, straining against her pin and her blade. Santina was quiet, digesting what all he had said. “Mira, if you don’t believe me you can kill me now. But, if you’re willing to trust me then let me prove to you that I’m telling the truth.”

Santina hesitated, not wanting to believe him. She considered just slicing him open and disappearing into the night. Going against her instinct, she leaned back off him briefly. “If you are lying..” she let herself trail off. He nodded, not wanting to pressure her into acting irrationally. She let him go. He grimaced, rubbing a hand over where the blade had nicked him.

“I hate to admit it, but for a woman you are very good,” he smirked.

“What now,” she demanded, not interested in banter or flattery.

“Now, you meet my crew leader.”