Trying to be my protector, James ushered me behind him. Of course he had to be the gentleman, and he was probably going to get hurt doing so. "Look, we don't want any trouble," he told the three men.

One of them swaggered towards James and held out an ominous looking knife that was crusted with dried blood. I felt a sickening twist form in my stomach as the man walked towards James. He had a scar down the side of his face that twisted his entire lip and tattoos up and down his arms along with a gnarly black ponytail down his back. "You got trouble," he sneered to James.

"Look, you can have all my money, just don't hurt us."

From behind me, came another man and poked his gun into my back. I yelped instinctively, which caused James to glance behind me. The fear in his eyes was so evident I was sure the men had to see it as well.

"You're in the wrong area at the wrong time-you got trouble whether you like it or not," the man continued.

"Quit it," James told them. Then, from out of the blackness, the third man grabbed James and slammed the handle of his gun against James' skull. Poor James fell to the ground, blood dribbling from his hair, but he refused to give up. Slowly, with my assistance, he rose to his feet.

We huddled together, awaiting the next move. I knew that I should try and get rid of the men before they hurt either of us anymore, but at the same time I was trying to remain guarded against James. I couldn't have him find out about me now. Just do it, I kept on telling myself, or else somebody is going to get hurt. But, what about James finding out? I felt like screaming because I didn't know what to do.

"Take their money," the apparent leader said to the man behind me. Instantly, his fingers tore my purse away.

"Hey!" I protested, but my scream was cut off short as he punched me in the face. I swayed as the blood came out of my nose, bit down hard on my lip. Dad would be disappointed that I'd let these punks take me over so easily. Screw you, Dad, I thought wickedly. This isn't your battle.

The man pulled out the measly twenty dollars I had and grimaced. "Twenty bucks. That's all."

"Check him," the leader said to the man who had already hit James. Immediately, the hitter man ripped James' shirt in half and reached inside the pants' pockets. He emerged with James' wallet and riffled through it. Apparently James didn't have that much on him. The hitter showed the leader however much James had, and they both sneered.

"You don't got enough to get outta here," the leader said to us.

Then, he waved his hand and immediately the gun man behind me and the hitter man launched at James. They attacked him with both the beating of their guns and then knocked him sharply in the forehead with their knee. I screamed and rushed towards the leader so that they would stop, but he shoved me down due to the fact of my ridiculous high heels. Then, they threw James' bruised and bleeding body against one of the brick walls. James didn't move.

Next, they turned to me.

"Nice necklace," one of them sneered.

"Better body," the other cackled.

I rolled my eyes. "Men. Is that all you guys can think about?" They looked slightly confused as to why I would start being cocky all of a sudden, but approached nonetheless. With James' unfortunate situation, I was now able to launch into the mode I had been named for. Damn Max and her fortune cookie saying.

"Look, I can't fight in shoes," I told them as I removed my high heeled spiked sandals. "At least not these." Then, I placed my hands on my hips. "All right, since you just hurt my boyfriend, who wants to die first?"

One of them came rushing at me, gun pointed out front so that I would weaken and bend to his perverse wishes. I kicked upward, sending the gun flying off into the darkness so that it clattered far behind him. He wouldn't find it. Angrily, he came at me with his knife. Quickly avoiding the fatal blade of the knife, I grabbed him by his wrists and flipped him over onto his back. Then, I grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed my knee into the back of his head. There wasn't anymore movement from him.

The remaining two men, the leader and the gunman, looked slightly panicked. The female that they had threatened just whipped one of their own boys. But, with a curt nod of the leader's head, the gunman came at me.

He shot blindly at me, trying to hit. Naturally, I was far too fast and danced out of his way without a problem. "C'mon," I laughed. "I'm not even breaking out into a sweat here." He came back at me, fists ready. He was smarter than the hitter man and kept his arms tucked close to his body so that I couldn't grab him.

Just as he came towards me, the leader wrapped his arm around my neck. "Get 'er, now," he told his follower. Immediately, I lashed out, bringing my legs up so that I kicked the gunman underneath the chin as hard as I could. I heard a distinctive cracking sound and he crumbled, not moving.

Since we were standing by a brick wall, the leader was trying to smash my head against it to knock me unconscious. Fortunately, the wall gave me the perfect advantage that I needed. I ran up the side of the wall like Mom had taught me, then flipped over backwards and smashed his head into the wall. All three men weren't moving. Perfect.

Quickly, I ran over to James and checked for the vital signs. He still had a pulse, but his breathing was swallow and strangled. He needed to get to a hospital as fast as possible.

I picked him up in my arms, grabbed my shoes, and without even bothering to put them back on again, I zoomed off into the night, holding James just as Dad had held me. But the fact that still bothered me was why all three of those men wore black designer shoes.