bad business

The bullet sped by, tearing a flap of fabric from Caban’s thick jacket.
I didn’t know he wasn’t hit.
As Stretch’s gun sounded, the rest of us broke holster. There was no cover, and it was four to six, with Em and the Doctor behind us in the shuttle. Ice hit Stretch immediately, and the man went down, still alive. Milano leapt on me before I got a bullet from my chamber. His weight pressed down on me and his ugly lips drooled onto my face.
“Thought I recognized you. Milano doesn’t forget a face. You’re Front’s little bitch. Still working after he got his brains blowed out by them Feds?”
I kicked him between the legs, but my shin met a solid piece of metal. The man laughed. “Served him right. Wish I coulda been there, but now I get you.” He put his weight on my ribcage and brought a hand to my throat, where I felt it beginning to squeeze. Around me, I heard gunshots, running, and the distinct sound of a body hitting the turf. Dirt ground into my eyes as I squirmed away from his tightening fingers. No one was coming to help me.
Because he leaned his whole weight on my lungs, my legs were free, so I pummeled both knees into his back, feeling the recently repaired tissues in my body straining and tearing. He grunted as I hit him, but did not lose his grip. Instead he leaned forward, so I sat up suddenly and hit him with my head as hard as I could. The impact nearly blinded me but I got my arms free and pulled my elbow across the bridge of his nose. When I got free I knocked him onto the ground and shoved my boot to his temple once, twice, until Caban was there, Caban with his arms around me pulling me back from Milano, Caban bracing his arm over my shoulder and shooting back at whoever we were still fighting. Was he hit? We were running away, and they were chasing us.
Em was flying the shuttle and everyone else was bleeding and angry.

They took our money, and my head still hurts.