“Interrupting is sort of my thing today.” The man stood there, holding the large hunk of metal in front of him. “Hey, lady!” He called to the blue haired woman nearby. “I’ll handle these guys messing with you.” He turned back to Shiara, looking at her quizzically. 

“You a new recruit? The usual third member of Lathilos’ group isn’t so…female.” He said, looking her over. The normal third member. Someone he knew all too well. 
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He charged the teal haired man, his sword in front of him. “[i]Just. Fucking. DIE!”[/i] He screamed. He stabbed forward, and his blade met flesh. When Marlowe opened his eyes, he nearly let the blade go as his eyes met the pained eyes of a woman. His opponent had grabbed a human shield, held it in front of him and—there was no time to react before The Orderling’s blade pierced his side, bringing Marlowe to his knees. As he looked upwards, he saw him. 

[i]He was smiling.[/i]

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“He’s been reassigned.” 

“Good. I hope it’s somewhere cold and empty.” Marlowe noticed he girl had not run. At least she’d moved behind Viera. “Viera. Take the girl somewhere safe.” He sighed. “I’ll have to hold this lady and her friends off.” 

Viera shook her head and took the girl’s hand. “Don’t get carried away,” she quipped, pulling Azarnite with her. 

“You aren’t my task. I will pursue her when my companions arrive.”

"It'll be tough to do when you're out cold lady. Just be happy I'm feeling nice and I'm not too keen on mindless killing." No more killing. Not when he didn't have to. The Order would chase after their target forever. But hey, they weren’t trying to kill her. That was new, right? 

“How many bouts have you won to know you'll be able to?”

“Enough.” Marlowe swung the flat of his blade at the woman, aiming to simply bat her aside. He didn’t want to stick around long enough to deal with a three on one fight, but those kind of odds seemed more and more common these days. When you burn your bridges with your companions, such things happened. 

She was fast! She ducked under his swing and came up with a heavy punch to the sternum. Marlowe coughed, feeling something break inside. She was stronger than your average brawler. He felt his blade drop to the ground as he fell forward onto his hands and knees. 

Marlowe tried to push himself up, reaching for his sword to react and…the girl had dashed off with incredible speed. Marlowe noticed the technique: it was something he’d used since Viera began instructing him in the techniques of her culture. Being able to strengthen limbs using the power of the body’s spirit. This new girl was more skilled then he was in combat, and she could do similar abilities. He really, really needed to get his shit together. He heard sounds from the distance; the others were coming. The sound of the vulgarities meant that Delios wouldn’t turn and run, but wanted revenge. 

So Marlowe ran. It was his only chance now.