Dirk Messir
As the Marines who had entered the cafe began to spread out, Dirk considered his options. In his current location, he knew he'd be discovered sooner or later, and there was a good chance that he'd either be attacked on sight, or taken off by the Marines, and promptly discovered as an escaped slave. However, he figured he might live a little bit longer if he pretended to be innocent for a bit; after all, maybe they wouldn't immediately recognise him, and might let their guard down long enough for his Divine Purpose to reinstate itself. The knife in his hand was flipped over to a backward grip, and hidden in his coat sleeve, making it seem as though he was unarmed.
Sure enough, footsteps came round the front of the bar, and a fairly fat guy with a droopy lip rounded the bar, starting a little when he spied Dirk huddled in the corner. However, Dirk's new clothing and seemingly-scared demeanour seemed to do the trick - the Marine did little more than call out 'Hey, I found a civilian over here!', his captain responding 'Alright, so take them in for questioning.' The guy kneeled down, an apparent expression of kindness crossing his features, as he began saying meaningless words to help calm Dirk down and explain official Marine questioning procedure. Dirk didn't pay attention to those, instead waiting for the guy to get close enough for him to use his expert martial arts skills on the guy.
'So hey, what's your name, anyway?' the Marine asked. It occurred to Dirk that the guy was another person like Chipper - actually kind, and not a horrible person like everyone in the family he was with before. However, Dirk couldn't afford to get captured and returned to his previous owners.
'Finger Pistol.'
'Huh?'
That was the last word the fat Marine ever uttered. Flipping the knife in his grip again, Dirk lunged, plunging it into the man's chest, stifling any noise he might have made as slipped on to his back, Dirk frantically stabbing the man until the light left his eyes. It was not a clean death, either physically or metaphorically - blood poured from his wounds, and though the remaining two less experienced Marines made fun of the fat one for apparently slipping on nothing, the one in charge almost immediately yelled at them to follow him over there. Dirk turned back to face the narrow end of the bar, crouched and covered in blood, waiting as the Marines moved toward the bar, two sets of footsteps passing him, and the last set...
A man wearing glasses looked over the bar, uttered 'What the f-', and was promptly knocked back by Dirk's abrupt leap over the shorter end of the bar, his knife piercing the recruit's shoulder before being immediately retracted as Dirk made a break for the nearest pillar. Somebody shot at him and missed just as he rounded behind it, giving him a moment's respite, as it was just wide enough to hide his entire body from view from the bar area. Once again, the older Marine shouted orders, telling the other two to get after the kid whilst he reloaded; scanning in front of him, Dirk found room to duck down on all fours again, now crawling silently beneath the table immediately before him, remaining quiet and breathing slowly and evenly as the two younger Marines arrived in the area.
'Where'd he go?!'
'I don't know, he was right behind the pillar! He didn't move out from there, did he?'
'I didn't
see him move out... maybe he-'
'For God's sake, you two! Just shut up, find him, and make him pay for killing a Marine!'
From his vantage point, Dirk saw one of the Marines - probably glasses, given the drips of blood falling from above the level of the table - draw their cutlass from their belt, and both began to wander around, checking in as many conceivable locations as they could, except below the table proper. Considering that glasses was both already injured and probably more battle-skilled than his companion, Dirk began crawling after him, remaining beneath the tables as best he could until he was sure he wouldn't be seen as he crawled out from beneath them, immediately behind glasses. His Divine Purpose left his steps light and his body hunched beneath table level, letting him move across the glass unheard as he moved closer and closer to glasses, until he finally saw an opportunity - two otherwise-distant pillars happened to be arranged such that he wouldn't be seen from the other's location even when hidden behind one from the side - and took it, spearing glasses in the neck and roughly dragging his knife across it, spraying a shower of blood across a large area in front of the unfortunate man. He collapsed, the final rookie Marine began to run over with unfired gun in hand, and Dirk took his position, hiding behind the appropriate pillar until the blonde man reached him, very upset at the death of his friend, and begging him to stop joking around and get up, right up to the point Dirk fell upon him in another frenzy of stabbing.
The final Marine, apparently the leader of the group, chose this point to round the corner and aim his rifle at Dirk, yelling 'Alright, kid, stand up, hands empty, or I blow your brains across the floor!' The ex-slave stood, but did not drop his knife.
Instead, he was smirking viciously. A moment of dismay passed across the Marine, leaving him unsure how to react as Dirk began posturing.
'Fool! Absolute idiot!' Dirk crowed at the Marine, gesturing wildly. 'You don't even realise what you're facing off against! For you see, I am a master of the Six Styles martial art!'
'...Rock what?'
'I said six, not rock.'
'Never heard of it either way. Now go to hell!'
With an utterance of 'Paper Art', Dirk had already folded out of the bullet's path before it was fired, still smirking as he leaned down, grabbed up the blond Marine's rifle in his free hand, and roughly aimed and fired toward the Marine. The weapon's recoil flung his arm wide and threw the weapon from his grasp, but a hit to the stomach was achieved, the older man dropping his weapon from the shock, rather than the pain, of being shot. By the time he came to his senses, Dirk was already charging him; however, there was a reason he was in charge of other Marines, and a swift fist to the gut flung Dirk back enough for him to draw his cutlass and make his own attack, screaming that he'd gouge the bastard's eyes out for that. Yet it seemed impossible to hit the skinny kid - wherever he swung, stabbed, or swiped, his opponent was not, seeming to move out of the weapon's path the way a piece of paper in the wind would do, and it was only a matter of time before he overextended, leaving him open to a knife in the gut - or 'Finger Pistol', as Dirk proclaimed.
And then a few more besides.
And then, whilst the Marine struggled to stand, a kick to the stomach that threw him back into the table behind him, sliding down it until he was on his backside, only to receive another kick straight to the forehead that snapped his neck over the table's edge.
And only then did Dirk stumble back, breathing heavily after his exertions, and utter 'Tempest Kick' to the blood-soaked building's interior.
Dirk took a few moments to rest, making sure none of the Marines outside were paying any attention to what was happening inside the cafe, and looking up at the hole in the ceiling with the mildly upsetting realisation that there was no way he could jump that high and use it as an escape route. Even so, he'd acquired some benefit from the fight - there were plenty of cutlasses available for future use. He grabbed one from the body of the deceased superior and hid it in his coat alongside the kitchen knife, thought for a moment, then went over to the corpses of the blond Marine and glasses and took their cutlasses too, reasoning that they'd be needed too in case one broke. Finally, since he could not escape through either the hole in the ceiling, for lack of jump height, or the front door, for all the Marines, he decided to look for another way out.
His search led him into the cafe's kitchen, which still had a stove on, with the food cooking at it now scorched black; Dirk absent-mindedly turned this off as he passed, heading toward a door at the back of the room. It opened easily enough, but even so, he peered out from behind it just to make sure there was nobody on the other side who might be threatening, before stepping through into an alleyway and closing it behind him. With no Marines visible, and the sound of their actions coming from only one direction in that alley, the obvious choice for Dirk was to head in the opposite direction, and hope his Divine Purpose would bring him to the nearest port without being seen.
