There’s a little known fact about Mistress Elsha Hawk. Killing gives her happy feet; imagine if the boot scoot boogie and hookey pookey had a kid. That kid would be the Napoleon Dynamite dance Elsha was doing as G2’s fist hit in her breadbox.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Elsha lunged at G2.

G2 grabbed Elsha’s shoulder and thrust her to the ground. This happened 3 more times, and each time Elsha had to pick herself off the ground.

“My Kung Fu is strong.” G2’s arms and legs formed into an aggressive stance.

“Can your Kung Fu dodge bullets?”

In the split second that Elsha’s body shifted to pick up the gun, the distance between the two rivals had become minuscule. G2’s fist squarely landed on Elsha’s nose before she had a chance to put her finger on the trigger.

“ewe book my nooze” screamed Elsha through the blood and tears, dropping the gun again.

G2 shrugged. “It could be worse.” The Irish Pianist landed a roundhouse kick to the side of Elsha’s head, knocking her unconscious.