[b]Marcus[/b] hit the ground just as the pistol came up.

The gunshot cracked through the service room, loud enough to make [b]Milo[/b] yelp and [b]Serafina[/b]’s ears snap flat against her hair. The bullet tore over Marcus instead of through him, splintering wood from the doorframe.

Before the gunman could correct his aim, [b]Piero[/b]’s compact pistol barked from behind Marcus. The shot struck the thug’s arm and twisted him half sideways. A heartbeat later, [b]Hwicce[/b]’s thrown dagger flashed in from the other angle and buried deep. The pistol clattered from slack fingers as the man collapsed, dead before he could hit the ground properly.

[b]Piero[/b] lowered his smoking weapon by an inch. [color=39b54a]“That was the one I was worried about.”[/color]

At the rear, the wounded clubman tried to make his desperate lunge count. He did not get far. Gears caught the swing on one brass gauntlet, drove her other fist into his ribs with a metallic crunch, and sent him crashing backward into the wall. He slid down and stayed there.

[b]Elora[/b]’s opponent proved less panicked and more dangerous. He circled wide, waited for Gears to finish her own target, then came in low and hard while Elora’s crimson frost curled around Lunaciel. She turned to meet him, blade flashing in a cold arc, and Gears tried to step in from the side.

The clubman forced through anyway.

His weapon smashed past the edge of the icy vortex and struck Elora hard across the guard. Armor cracked under the impact, protective plates breaking apart as the force drove into her. The counterstroke failed to find purchase, and the frost scattered in a glittering burst across the floorboards. [b][Elora's light armor is destroyed. Elora's HP 3/4][/b]

Outside, [b]Hwicce[/b] was already moving.

He crossed the lane toward Mr. Bell in a sudden rush, dropping low with the hilt of his sword aimed for a deeply personal sort of injury. For the first time, Bell moved quickly. His pale-gloved hand snapped from his coat, unfolding a strip of black paper that burst into gray dust and mirror-bright flecks.

Hwicce’s strike passed through a false outline.

The real Bell had shifted half a step back, coat fluttering, untouched.

[color=9e0039]“Crude,”[/color] Bell said.

Serafina glared from the room.

[color=92278f]“Effective, if it lands.”[/color]

[b]Only one clubman[/b] still stood near the rear, breathing hard with his weapon raised. [b]Mr. Bell[/b] remained in the lane, his charm spent, his smile thinner now than before.