So from when I was about 7-10, these teenagers on my street and I had been sort of feuding. Nothing too crazy, but we hated each other and it was me (younger, not very big, and with bad asthma) versus the two main antagonists, who sometimes had others. I never got beat up, but things would get heated and mildly violent.
One day when I was 10, it became clear they were actually going to try to kick my ass. So, I'm both imaginative and great at handling myself in dangerous situations. I decided the best move was to run into my garage (the big door was always open for me coming home from school), pull the emergency cord so they're trapped and it's almost totally dark, and then get the garden shears off the rack and try to fuck them up as badly as I can.
So, predictably they fell into my trap. In the moment, I genuinely didn't care how far it went, as I could easily pretend to be traumatized and make something up with half truths to sound pathetic and spin it as self-defence (I constantly deflected guilt growing up by being a very believable storyteller from about age 5). Just objectively everyone would have taken my side anyway.
So, nobody was physically hurt. I chased them around in the extremely dim light while they screamed like little crybabies, not even attempting to defend themselves. My mom heard and opened the side door from the house and they bolted past her (the front door was visible from there) and ran away.
My mom asked what happened and I just told her they wanted to beat me up and I did what I needed to. That was the last of my problems with them, and nothing ever came of it. To this day I don't know if they told their parents, but it had to be pretty embarrassing. The end result was I became untouchable because they thought I'd try to murder them again.