C.O.M.B.A.T., Incorporated: Warfare for Hire
an excerpt

“Enemy sighted!” she cried into her communicator, at almost the same instant she heard Dayx say the same.
The man had pinned Lemmon’s knife hand to her side when he landed on top of her, so all she could do for now was slam her forehead into an already crooked nose. He yelped as it gave way with a satisfying crunch, spraying blood all over both of their faces.
Taking her chance, Lemmon quickly twisted, roller her assailant over so that she straddled him. A quick left fist to the face assured that the man’s hands stayed there while she quickly drew the length of her blade across his throat. Hands quickly went from face to neck, as fingers tried in vain to keep the blood from spilling out. Gurgling noises escaped the dying man as he drowned in his own blood, eyes bulging. Lemmon licked off a bit of blood that has spattered her lips.
She had little time to admire her handiwork, though, as a foot caught her in the side of the head. She fell off the dead man, but managed to keep her wits enough to roll into a crouch and face the second attacker. He too held a long, wicked looking blade. He was tall yet stocky, and the scars on his arms indicated that this was far from his first knife fight. Sensing that she had the agility advantage, Lemmon charged the man, dodging the swipe of his blade. Side-stepping the swing, she grabbed his shoulder with her left hand, using the momentum of his strike to pull him off balance. With her right hand she thrust her own weapon through the man’s larynx until it hit his spine. It wasn’t as neat a kill as the last, but it would do.
The sound of movement behind her caused Lemmon to duck and swing. She was not going to be taken by surprise again. She had meant the strike to cut across the knee of an attacker, severing the ligaments. Instead, she was eye to eye with a boy, sliced deeply across the belly. He also wielded a knife, but he could not have been more then eleven years old. Clear blue eyes welled up with tears as the knife he carried clattered to the floor. This other hand was on his abdomen, but Lemmon could see blood and intestines leaking though. The boy looked down at his stomach, then up at her. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He fell.
Lemmon took the boy’s head in her hand, and smoothed back his hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, just before running her knife along his neck, ending his pain. She was hoping to be able to slit someone’s throat today. Now she had three.