As the gang member put a hand to his knife, I realized that I was rapidly losing my element of surprise. For just a moment, I considered trying to hide in the shelving and pick them off as they searched for me. I abandoned the thought quickly. Even my best stealth kills had been messy. I highly doubted I would stay hidden for long with active searchers.

As the other gang member stood from the poker table, I burst from my hiding spot. I didn't shout or yell a war cry. I sprinted silently, capitalizing on the last few moments I had before they saw me.

The one at the poker table saw me first, sounding a wordless cry of warning as I was just a few yards from the other man. My target managed to draw his dagger high, in an ice pick grip, before I got to him.

He tried to grab my wrist with his free hand as I lunged, but he was too slow. My thrust blew past his grasping hand and slammed hilt deep into his chest. Keeping his dagger away with my free hand, I stabbed him half a dozen more times in the guts.

His free hand grabbed at my wrist feebly, but I shoved him off hard. He toppled into a shelf and crumpled to the ground screaming.

I spun towards the poker table raising my dagger. The other gang member had drawn his weapon, but he was still a dozen yards away. The suddenness of my attack had taken him off guard.

I chucked my dagger at him. It missed him by a good two feet, but it made him flinch back, sword raised in a guard. In his moment of hesitation, I had time to draw my shield and arming sword.

The man had started to advance on me, but seeing me armed and his buddy writhing on the ground he changed his mind. He started backing up calling “Help, raid! Raid! I need help over here!”

Not relishing the idea of being out numbered, I advanced rapidly. As I reached him, I cut at his head. He parried my blow, as fast as a snake slashed at my throat. I caught his ripost on my buckler and managed to land a shallow cut on his wrist.

He lunged at me with his free hand, trying to grapple with me. I jumped away, and even managed to cut off a finger with a false edge cut. He stumbled back with a cry of pain, waving his sword frantically to ward me off.

As he fell back, I took a moment to recover. I was breathing hard, sword and shield held in a deathgrip. Even this small amount of exercise was more than enough to wind me with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Sizing up the situation, I came up with a plan of attack. The gang member’s retreat had brought him almost to another set of shelves. Focusing on him I narrowed my eyes and pushed. It was some sort of mental command. I wasn’t really sure how I did it, but for some reason I knew it would work.

An invisible wall of force, like a sudden gust of wind shot out from me. It hit the man in an unfocused blast. It wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, but it shoved him into the shelving unit.

That provided the moment of distraction I needed. I cut savagely and opened the man from neck to opposite hip. The man fell limply to the ground, blood pooling rapidly.

A roar came from my left. I spun in time to see the bodyguard, Brute, warhammer and shield raised, coming straight for me. He looked bigger than I remembered, and angrier.

He came in swinging and I was forced to retreat under the onslaught. I managed to block the wild blows, but each one bent and splintered my poor buckler. My arm felt like lead and it was a struggle to keep my shield raised.

My own blows were uncoordinated as I fell back, and Brute caught them easily on his heavy wooden shield. In my retreat, I couldn't focus on attacking correctly, so I lost my ‘true time’ bonus.

Brute over extended on an attack and I desperately seized the opening. I thrust hard at Brute’s stomach. I almost lost my grip as, instead of yielding flesh, my sword felt like it had struck a stone wall.

A magical barrier stopped my sword an inch from Brute, glowing a bright yellow. I gaped at the barrier and Brute smiled at me with a shit-eating grin. Then he slammed his warhammer into my chest with a powerful uppercut.

The blow sent me staggering and I fell on my back. I coughed hard as I scrambled away from the large man. Pain wracked my chest with every cough. I think I had a few broken ribs.

Focusing on Brute, I tried to push, but nothing happend. How could it not be off cooldown yet?! Brute grinned maliciously and slowly advanced as I frantically tried over and over. Finally it clicked, and the wave of force poured from me.

The big man didn't even stumble as the sudden wind hit him. But he hunkered defensively, prepared for more magical attacks. It was enough for me to regain my feet and raise my leaden limbs back into a guard.

Figuring there had to be a limit to how much damage his barrier could take, I doggedly threw myself back in the fight.

Brute was slow, and predictable, but I wasn’t sure how long my battered buckler would last. Catching another blow on my buckler, I managed to slip under his shield and cut at his leg. Again the barrier flared up, protecting the limb.

Next I got a lucky cut to Brute’s bald head. The yellow glow deflected the glancing blow and in return, I got a shield bash to the face. My nose broke with a crunch and started bleeding freely.

After hamming down my buckler, Brute reared back and crushed my shoulder before I could readjust. I screamed in pain as the entire arm went limp. My buckler crashed to the ground. In a morbid parody of the last man I killed, I flailed with my remaining good arm as I back peddled.

One of my panicked attacks cut Brute’s hand as he tried to advance. Blood oozed from his scored knuckles, dripping off the pommel of his hammer. His barrier was finally down.

Not that it did me much good. With a useless arm, a broken nose, and cracked ribs, I was basically worthless. Only adrenaline was keeping me on my feet at this point. As my back hit the wall of the building I knew I was hosed.

I forced myself to grin at the huge bodyguard, the taste of iron thick in my mouth. I might have lost this round, but I was coming back. No matter how many times it took, I was going to kill these assholes.

I readied to go down fighting, my sword shaking as my muscles spasmed. Brute advanced, that shit eating grin lit by the light of the poker table lantern. He knew this was the end.

I caught just a flicker of movement from behind Brute before a resounding crack filled the air. I was momentarily blinded by a spray of liquid and had to wipe my eyes with the back of my sword wrist.

When my eyes cleared, I saw Brute lying on the ground, a pulped mass where his face used to be. Looking up, I saw Ajax standing over Brute, flintlock pistol still smoking.

“That’s overpowered as hell,” I said weakly, before sliding bonelessly down the wall.