The one on the left, shorty, went first. With a low swing designed to give his companion a clean swipe without the possibility of him blocking. Obviously they had trained together before and were quite skilled. Not quite enough for what they were up against now however. He swung the blade away from the man using the staff to block, when his friend swung for his right lung he simply twirled the staff so that the blade swung down to knock the blow off target. He had a quick decision to make now, would he take the time to stretch out and give them a good run for their money or should he end it. As he thought he caught someone out the corner of his eye at the mouth of the alley he quickly enough decided which he was going to do. The longer this fight stretched on the greater the risk that he would draw a crowd and that was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid. He hadn't been held in captivity since before Vietnam. He wasn't really in any type of hurry to end up back in a cell, war time camps were easier to escape from as you just had to get them to shoot you and play dead. Normal prisons tended to be a bit harder with an autopsy and such. 

Dragging himself out of autopilot and back to the present he ducked a blow that would have ruined the rest of his day before he swung the scythe right around, high. Naturally his two opponents ducked he then slid the staff down and changed directions rapidly, feeling his muscles almost tear by the speed of the whole thing. They have have expected a low attack but from their left side where the blade would have come from. The staff knocked into both of their knees. He contemplated sparing them, it would do the whole [i]hero[/i] thing wonders however that wasn't who he was. He wiped the blood of the scythes blade on one of the fallen bodies before removing a key from his pocket and moving up to the door. He placed the key in the door but didn't turn it. He was still being watched, he could feel it. Not a sixth sense but the way you could feel it when you knew someone was focusing on you. He turned, all they would see was his visor face whoever it was. The thing was, did he want to settle something the now? He didn't really but if they kept watching it could cause a problem if they called the authorities or followed him into what would probably be a bloodbath.

In the end he chose to ignore it. Though before he could touch the door it was flung back off its hinges sending him with it. Crushing and breaking several of his ribs by how it felt when it landed on him. His head smacking the concrete below him. He really wished part of his abilities meant that he didn't feel the pain. The injury was bad, let alone the pain of healing so rapidly. He coughed slightly as he stood up, why on Earth would they install explosive bolts? Paranoid bastards.

Four gunmen walked out, three with assault rifles and one with a light machine gun. He really hated this job sometimes.