Ethan didn't wait for the thugs to decide on their formation. He moved first, a blur of motion fueled by his boxing skill.
He feinted left, drawing the brute with the steel pipe, then dropped low under the swinging pipe and lunged at the man with the switchblade. The thug barely registered the attack before Ethan's fist, precise and brutal, connected with his jaw. The knife clattered harmlessly against the concrete as the man collapsed.
The remaining two roared and charged, swinging their pipes in wide, clumsy arcs. Ethan danced between them, a torrent of practiced punches. A blow to the temple dropped the bulky man; a swift kick to the knee followed by a vicious uppercut finished the third.
All three lay groaning on the ground. The quick exchange was over.
However, the man with the switchblade, now stunned and bleeding from his jaw, wasn't finished. He fumbled in his jacket, pulling out a rusty, old pistol.
