The little service room exploded into motion.

[b]Marcus[/b] crossed the distance first, axe in both hands, aiming for the thug with the pistol before the man could make good use of it. The blow landed with brutal force, driving the gunman back with a cracked gasp, [u]but the strain was too much for the weapon. The axe head split against the impact, metal and haft giving out in Marcus’s grip.[/u]

[color=00a651]“Careful with this one!”[/color] Piero snapped, drawing a compact hand axe from beneath his coat and tossing it toward Marcus before his old weapon had fully hit the floor.

At the rear, [b]Elora[/b] and [b]Gears[/b] moved as one. The first clubman saw the frost-red shimmer around Lunaciel and stumbled back just in time, escaping the vortex fully. The second was not so lucky. [b]Gears[/b]’ gauntlet crashed into his guard at the same instant [b]Elora[/b]’s crimson winter swept through him, ice and vampiric force biting deep enough to leave him barely standing.

Near the front, [b]Hwicce[/b]’s advance looked almost lazy until his hidden hand blurred. The dagger flashed past his sword arm and buried itself cleanly into the knife thug before the man had even settled into a stance. The thug stiffened, blinked once, and dropped to the floor in a heap.

[b]Milo[/b] screamed and flattened himself against the wall.

Serafina Bellaflora stared at the dead man, then at Hwicce, ears twitching.

[color=92278f]“Well. At least one of you is efficient.”[/color]

Mr. Bell did not flinch. Beneath the brim of his hat, only his mouth moved.

[color=9e0039]“Messy,”[/color] he said. [color=9e0039]“Proceed.”[/color]

[hr]
[b]Hostile Turn Begins[/b]

[b]The wounded pistol thug[/b] staggers back, trying to bring his firearm up toward [b]Marcus[/b] despite the blood soaking his sleeve. [Incoming 2d5 attack]

[b]The uninjured clubman[/b] near the rear circles wide, looking to catch [b]Elora[/b] between himself and the wounded clubman. [Incoming 2d5 attack]

[b]The critically wounded clubman[/b] grips his weapon with both hands and lunges desperately toward Gears, more panic than discipline. [Incoming 2d5 attack]

Mr. Bell retreats a measured step down the lane, pale-gloved hand slipping into his coat as he calls out, [color=9e0039]“The girl alive. Everyone else is replaceable.”[/color] [Incoming ????]