The Outsider Test, 8. Fighting for the Outsider.

I saw five men struggling with the Outsider. Their intention was obvious - to capture her. I shouted a warning to Scruff to stay put and, acting on instinct, I threw myself into the struggle, hands and feet dealing out blows. So I was out numbered and surrounded by men taller than I was (I'd be worried if they weren't!), the Outsider was in trouble, and I had to help her.
I made a mistake. I should have thought before I hurled myself into the fight. I ought to have sized up the opposition, and worked out just how good they were likely to be. Instead I just assumed my training would be sufficient to defeat them.
Instead I found I was battling experts. I had intended just to be dealing out blows, instead I was recieving them. Now I was annoyed at my choice of a fancy-dress costume. I'd thought it would look cute to go in a pink version of my usual costume. It did, but I'd left off one thing - my equipment belt. That contained all sorts of things that might have helped me. But of course, I'd left it at home.
A strong hand tore the whip from my grasp, and then a fist slammed into my jaw. I fought back, of course, but the men seemed pretty expert too, blocking my blows. With a jolt I realised they were not what they seemed. Their faces were hidden from sight, behind hat-brims and scarfs, but they were not ordinary London toughs. I can beat them. These men were trained in the martial arts.
Someone brought a Karate-chop down hard on the back of my head, and I staggered back. But I wasn't beaten yet. I struck out, hitting another man in the groin with one small foot. Apparently they hadn't been expecting that, as the man folded up with a cry of pain.
I hit the man who held me in the stomach and, free, I turned to face them.
"Okay, a fair fight!"
"No!"

I looked round. There was another of the men, but he held a small pistol in one hand. His other arm was about the Outsider's neck, and he had the gun held to her head. She did not look happy. Not that I know how a swirling smoke-like figure whose only features are two glowing red eyes can look happy, but I'm sure she can.
In the grip of this large man the Outsider looked very small. Sinister too, but small. One smoke-like hand gripped the arm that was about her throat.
"Stop it, or she dies," the man wasn't local, but I couldn't place his accent. I relaxed my body, standing in the street, unarmed.
"I'm afraid he means it," the Outsider confirmed, sounding a whole lot less than happy. I got the feeling she knew very well who these people were, and why they wanted her.
"Okay, I surrender," I sighed. Just don't...
Then something very heavy hit me on the back of the head, and I fell forward into darkness.
We were prisoners!

Next: Scruff takes a hand!