Ehhhh.

Work on your adverbs. That is, get rid of them for the most part. There's no context to this story, it's more of a scene than anything. Butterfly knife just screams adolescent in the suburb with fantasies of being a secret ninja.

>>375
I do honestly carry a butterfly knife for defense purposes, but that's an argument for /w/.

Other than that, thank you for the constructive criticism, this really wasn't meant to be anything but a scene.

This is shit, and you should feel like shit.

There's a lot of time for introspection and reasoning during this scene which, to me, throws the pacing off. For example "I violently jerked the blade around in it's wound, hoping to permanently injure his arm somehow." While certainly reasonable (?) given the context, the way it's written implies that your narrator was acting less on adrenaline and quick reactions than I think was implied.
I did like how the sequence of events was very clear, which made it easy to keep track of what was going on; again, though, that is something to watch out for if your narrator was supposed to be disoriented by the fight.

I actually revised this. I'll post it later.

SAGE has been used.

I’d just started walking home from Erica’s place. I didn’t quite know or care what time it was and I still reeked of passionate love making. My head was still a heavenly cloud of hormones and endorphins, nerves in my skin reenacting our elicit encounter. Though her personality was a void of stupidity and ignorance, her curves and lust clouded mind seemed to escape that void’s gravitational pull. Still, this was no time to relive the latest of encounters with my latest stupid ass fuck buddy. The balmy summer night air seemed to bring out the worst of the people around this god forsaken hell hole.
My field of vision remained soft and wide as I scanned the area for potential dangers. Stray cats darted in and out of the darkness. Countless cars were parked along the length of the street, not one of which didn’t have at least one or two vandalisms visited upon it. Domestic disputes echoed a hostile and angry chorus throughout the cracked city streets that hadn’t seen maintenance since the 70’s. This city just reeked of despair some nights.
I heard several staggering footsteps behind me. My head whirled around and my hands instinctively raised themselves. A drunkard was ambling towards me, an obviously hostile look on his face and a single fist balled up and raised at me. He had to have been at least 40. He slurred some sort of loud macho challenge at me, none of which I quite understood, though I’m certain it made proficient use of the term “mother fucker”. He clumsily swung his fist at my head. I chuckled as I blocked, quickly grabbed and turned his wrist, and stepped to his side. He lurched forward from the leverage as I quickly used my other arm to torque him further while my leg clipped him, robbing him of his balance and unceremoniously forcing him to fall on his face. Before he could scramble up, I stomped on the back of his head and continued to walk.
“Jackass”, I muttered as I continued to hunch towards my house. As I proceeded, I noticed several larger shades nearby. I made a mental note to remain cautious as they seemed to walk along the opposite side of the street in the same direction I did. I soon caught them pointing, looking, and talking about me. I picked up my pace, stomping distance away as I moved, before noticing a second group. Thankfully they were just talking amongst themselves. I noticed a younger woman in frighteningly slutty attire brandishing a can of mace, gloating and mock-threatening a few of the more daringly flirty males of the group.
“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath as I noticed the group that seemed to be shadowing me met up with the second group and began to gesture towards me. I might have knocked out the wrong drunkard, they wouldn’t use numbers like this on a single person unless it was a personal matter, as opposed to a run of the mill mugging or jumping.
I casually walked into a nearby secluded alleyway. The moment I believed they couldn’t see me, I sprinted deeper, aiming to exit to the other side and take off down the back streets. My fantasy of escape was short lived as I looked with horror at the fence topped with razor-wire that blocked my exit. I darted towards the entrance, only to be met by a shove from a thug cutting me off. I shoved him back, only to suddenly hear a hissing noise as my face and eyes were covered in mace. For a few blissful seconds, I was spared the pain. In moments it felt as though my face was being digested, devoured by a burning ravenous dog. I staggered backwards, one arm in a weakly defensive position, the other desperately rubbing the foamy mace from my eyes. As I screamed in agony and forced my eyes open, I saw a fist shaped blur sailing towards my jaw. I managed duck under it and spear the blurry shape who threw the hook, knocking him and two others behind him to the floor. Still in agony, I stood up and jabbed at a nearby throat, causing whoever it was to stagger away, coughing and sputtering.
My mind fought itself, whirling between calm logic and agonized adrenaline. My face stung unmercifully as I took a blow to my rib. I was grabbed from the front by a larger shape who was trying to wrestle me to the wall. I head-butted him, breaking his nose and his grip on me simultaneously. In the instant that followed, I brutally slammed an open palm onto his ear and followed up immediately with a frantic hook to his jaw. His wrecked ear-canal and rocked jaw were too much for the brute, who fell into unconsciousness. My vision was beginning to clear somewhat as I continued to fight. A feminine shape cautiously approached and aimed something at me, however I anticipated her motion and grabbed her at the forearm, jerking her towards me as I kneed her in the stomach. A burst of air shrieked from her shocked mouth as I grasped the back of her neck, pulling her into a vice like clinch, hurled knee after knee into her pathetic diaphragm, occasionally slamming my elbow into her back. A man screamed as he rapidly approached. “The fuck you doin to my girl nigga?! Get the fuck off her!”
I slung her broken body aside and into his path, stalling him just long enough for me to jab at his eye. My remaining hand snatched and slammed the can of mace into his mouth, filling his throat with burning foam as the metal destroyed teeth upon its aggravated entry. I heard comments of retreat mixed with arguing and orders to beat me. My face became a bloody burning mess as I continued to fight. I threw off attacker after attacker, maiming and beating whoever I could. They attacked from all directions without warning. They stopped trying to attack me all at once when they realized that I’d just continue knocking them into each other’s paths.
Some poor ignoramus caught me from behind and put me in a pathetic attempt at a headlock. Several of his comrades backed off and cheered him on as I put up a mock struggle. “Put his ass to sleep!”, “Yeah, look at that lil ass motha fucka, ain’t got shit now do you?”, they cheered and cheered, before I swung my fist into the fool’s groin, my fist colliding with the soft and formerly reproductive tissue. He buckled and I slipped my head from his grasp, gripped his forearm, and slammed my elbow into his upper arm, cracking it. As the brute screamed, I took hold of his conveniently dreadlocked hair and brought his face to my knee.
As he collapsed, I looked wildly around, still feeling the remnants of the mace relentlessly eating away at my face. My shoulder immediately burst into agony as a wooden board smacked into it, two rusty nails ripping into my back in the process. I collapsed onto my hands, standing on all fours and struggling to pick myself up. It was then that I noticed how heavy my body was. I’d been struggling for too long and knew that I had taken too much punishment.
As I struggled to stand, kicks and stomps began to rain down on my stomach, ribs, and face. I clipped, tripped, swept, and grabbed at their ankles, bringing them to the floor and fighting on my level, prolonging their impending victory. I couldn’t tell how many there were now, but it had to be around two or three. My body finally ceased cooperating and I simply lied down in a slump, preparing for the answer to the ultimate question.