There is no enjoyment here - only clinical precision. A geometry of death. A calculated assemblage of motion with predetermined outcomes and mostly fatal consequences. In short, it is nothing short of a grim dance macabre, a dance that Hy-Jinx will bear witness to. As to whether she will have influence on proceedings, is, at this moment, uncertain, for all she knows is that the dance is about to start - has already started. A simple movement of her little finger is enough to contribute to a change in tempo, a tilt of the head enough to facilitate, further down the line, whether someone’s knee breaks or simply buckles, for there is a subtle current present, as if every physical thing is hitched together, is one, and that any movement of the whole affects the whole, causes moments of the whole to change and transform so that the balance of the whole can be maintained. Hy-Jinx understands this in its immediacy, and although she cannot ‘see’ she ‘feels’ everything, which is a sight in itself, but one which, if she had to describe it, was a vision of the body, as opposed to one of the mind - a vibratory awareness that emanates from and to her body’s centre, connected to everything.

And so Hy-Jinx sits, calmly, on a stone bench beneath the branches of a Kerabian Cherry tree, its buds just starting to burst into bloom. A potency that she can feel and smell. The rain is still abated but a slight chill breeze is causing her soaked garments to cool her muscles, something that will not do for the fight that is to come. So, she breathes in deeply, in a manner that she has never done before: the scent of the flowers which permeate the wet evening air invigorating. With her lungs full, she forces the breath out in such a sharp manner that she feels the blood within herself suddenly rush forth, the pressure causing it to rise slightly and warm her arms, legs and feet. Her body repeats this apparent ritual once more and then her head tilts and a strange emotion which spreads first to her face and then, from her face to her entire body - as if smiling without smiling…a deadly smile. A grimace for a grim face. Hy-Jinx stands silently as if pulled up by strings. Masqued Madeleine smiles, Masqued Madeleine will always smile. The seven figures who have been carefully approaching her stop in their tracks, a feeling of uncertainty hovering about them as they see in the movement of the masked figure before them a strange mysterious gracefulness that seems to hint of…death?

Just at this moment, an out of breath Troy wheezes a rattling cough, whilst simultaneously sneezing, a combined sound effect which echoes the plaza “Just ignore me,” he half gasps, half shouts, as heads turn momentarily to the interruption. His lantern pole planted in the ground, he doubles over with one hand on the pole and the other on his knee, coughing and wheezing. He sneezes again and slowly stands and leans against the pole observing the scene before him - seven against one. “Well, come on! Get on with it, I want to go home!”

As we describe what happens next, it would be wrong to talk of Hy-Jinx, for it is not Hy-Jinx that enacts the graceful and deadly motions that flow through Hy-Jinx’s limbs, and it may be confusing to talk of Masqued Madeleine, as we associate Madeleine with, well Madeleine…but we know now, or at least may surmise, that in previous instances throughout our story, what may have been Masqued Madeleine was actually Ambrose Clearwater and what may have been Ambrose Clearwater may actually have been Masqued Madeleine, and in what is to come, it is indeed Masqued Madeleine who is enacting this dance macabre, confusing as that may be.

And so as Troy belts out his encouragement, Masqued Madeleine, having stood silently assessing the situation, grinds her right foot on its ball, shifting her heal to the right to imperceptibly angle her hips to the left, arching her spine slightly to allow the first pike thrust to slide past as she turns her hips back along the edge of the moving shaft, rolling her right arm beneath to grasp it and, by pulling, manoeuvre an unfortunate watchwoman within distance of what, having now let go of the weapon, is a strike to the throat, which if she simply retracted her hand would have caused the woman to fall choking to the ground. Instead, however, Masqued Madeleine keeps a grip on the woman’s throat, side stepping to cause the pike, currently mid-fall, to be scissored by the relative position and motion of her body and that of the guardswoman’s, making it spin sharply about its centre, the handle end whipping behind a guardsman’s knee, causing him to be pulled forward as he steps in with a raised sword. His attack interrupted, Masqued Madeleine follows through by viciously punching the watchwoman in the side of the face at the same time as letting go of her neck, causing the woman to fall, unconscious, onto the oncoming guardsman. Masqued Madeleine steps forward with a light graceful skip, over the clattering pike, bending to pick up the sword fallen from the guard’s hand with her left, and delivering a swift pommel strike to his brow, before switching the sword between hands.

Two down and five, warily prowling, left to go, thinks Hy-Jinx, a silent passenger to this unfolding melee. A passenger both simultaneously thrilled and horrified at the deadly precision with which her body is being moved.

The five slowly circle, so Masqued Madeleine spirals with them, moving slowly away from the centre giving the guardswoman with the obnoxious voice an illusion of entry, and so stepping in, the guardswoman swings her sword to cut Masqued Madeleine across the back and shoulders, but Masqued Madeleine is ready for her, turning the sword she has just picked up vertically, with her arm twisted behind her, so that the flat of the blade lies along the length of her spine. The sound of steel on steel echoes about the plaza and slightly outstretched as the guardswoman is, she is easily unbalanced as Masqued Madeleine steps back and in, swinging a relaxed left arm to hit the woman’s elbow joint and rolling her left arm under and round, locking the guardswoman’s arm and shoulder, the guardswoman’s sword now pointing away from her along the length of the guardswoman’s bent over torso. Masqued Madeleine steps back with her right leg in a circular motion which causes the guardswoman, bent doubled and locked at the shoulder, to spin round with her, but more importantly causes the end of the guardswoman’s sword to turn and be driven into the thigh of another approaching guardsman, who is anticipating the swing of Masqued Madeleine’s sword but not that of his companion’s. He looks momentarily pleased with himself as he blocks the sword strike that is aimed at his neck but then looks down, registers the sword in his leg and starts screaming as blood gushes from the wound. He drops the sword that he is carrying and collapses sideways onto the ground which twists the sword from the guardswoman’s grasp but also makes the wound in his leg even worse. His screams slowly turn to whimpers as he passes out.

Three down and four to go, thinks Hy-Jinx as Masqued Madeleine bends slightly and passes the sword and her sword arm under the throat of the guardswoman, twisting the guardswoman’s neck in the process until the inside of Masqued Madeleine’s elbow comes into contact with the guardswoman’s throat. Masqued Madeleine crooks her arm, thus bending it around the woman’s throat in a choke. Then, raising the guardswoman up, she twists her hips slightly, causing the guardswoman’s body to move to her right hand side somewhat which in effect puts Masqued Madeleine directly behind the woman, with her head at the back and side of the woman’s, increasing the intensity of the choke. The woman begins to gargle and gasp for air, her face turning red, both her hands clawing at Masqued Madeleine’s arm and elbow but to no avail. Masqued Madeleine backs away slightly, using the guardswoman as a human shield, until, with the final three lined up before her, and Hood lying behind her, she chokes out the guardswoman, letting her fall unconscious to the ground with a sickening thud as her head bounces off the cobbled plaza.

Hy-Jinx feels a strange sensation, hears a strange mocking voice, and realises that it is she - or at least her body - that is talking: “Any more for any more?” enquires Masqued Madeleine in a hissing whisper. The three, the middle one being Bilge, with a guardsman either side, back away. Madeleine faints a sudden move forward, and the three jump back in shock, skittishly attempting to hold their line, as Madeleine laughs mockingly, her head and mask tilting slightly to one side, reading the currents.

“Come on Bilge!” shouts Troy from about thirty foot behind them. “Show ‘er what you’ve got - it’s nearing curfew already and wife’s got some soup on. Promised I’d be back in time!”

With a pikemen and two swordsmen lined in front of her Masqued Madeleine assesses the situation, feels the balance and interplay and bides her time, waiting for the right moment…time slips by…thirty seconds…one minute…then a faint echo of marching feet, and her three opponents slowly start backing away, relief and relaxation replacing looks of tension and intimidation.

“RE-IN-FORCEMENNNTS!” shouts Troy grandly, as if making an announcement on a battlefield, and rounding the corner of the alley that leads into the plaza, a mixture of about twenty watch and guards march into view, armed with an assortment of weapons, with a few carrying lanterns on poles like Troy, the lights swaying, casting the whole plaza into a queasy see-sawing shadow dance.

Masqued Madeleine looks on dispassionately, feeling the inevitable balance of the situation and how it will not swing in her favour, but she is unperturbed, for she knows that the balance is about to shift again, for just as the guards and watch line up to cover the entrance and show their strength, another sound echoes the plaza, the clanging sound of metal on stone as a storm grate at the plaza’s centre lifts and clatters to one side. Out from the grate another masked figure rises and, stepping to one side, pulls from behind her back a set of curved, wickedly sharp blades. Then from the shadows to the right, another masked figure drops from the red brick wall, nonchalantly sauntering over to join his masked companions, an apple in hand, which he throws and catches, throws and catches. Hy-Jinx recognises him as her companion from earlier in the evening - Masqued Maerin.

A tangible air of tension permeates the plaza as the guards and watch slowly become unnerved by the presence of these new arrivals, some carefully doing the math.

“Err, if one can take out seven then that’s like twenty one?”

“But they didn’t take out seven did they, only four.”

“Oh right, but those lot retreated.”

“Yeah but that was because we arrived.”

“Okay then, she took on seven.”

“Eight, took on eight of us. I was here remember,” says Troy in all seriousness before shouting:“Here, mate! What you gonna do with that?!”, directing his question to Masqued Maerin before turning to engage the attention of the guardswoman to his right. “Seems a bit strange - if you know what I mean. I mean he’s not goin’ to eat it is he?”

The loud sound of an apple being bitten and crunched echoes the plaza.

“What the!” Troy exclaims, taken aback, then peering with narrowed eyes to try and see whether what he thinks has happened is happening.

Masqued Maerin, who now carries half an apple, tosses it nonchalantly into the flowerbed beneath the rose window of Aspatemane and turns to look at Masqued Madeleine: “Well?” he says expectantly. “What say you, shall we leave?”

Masqued Madeleine makes to take a step forward but Hy-Jinx, unsure as to what is going to happen with Hood - Are they going to leave him here? - and having so far been merely a passive observer in this unfolding drama, attempts to wrestle control and finds that it is surprisingly easy. There appears to be no resistance given and, in feeling that she is in control, Hy-Jinx goes to take off the mask, but hesitates as both Masqued Maerin and the other Masque suddenly tilt their heads to the side as if considering some new information before turning to stare at one another and then both looking pointedly at Masqued Madeleine.

Hy-Jinx frowns, well, at least mentally so, frowns with suspicion, feeling that some sort of information has been passed between the masks without her understanding or knowledge. Something has been shared that she and perhaps none of the other wearers are privy to and it is a feeling that concerns her, makes her feel even more so as if she is just some sort of plaything to the masks themselves, a marionette whose strings are being operated by some unseen hand…and it is a feeling that concerns her. Hy-Jinx is perhaps fool in appearance only, and should not be underestimated as you dear readers may have already by now understood. She is a wily and street savvy sort and understands a thing or two of the world and how it works. Seeing that she can glimpse feelings from the masks it is evident that this may very well be a two way street and so the concern that blazes momentarily to mind she sinks almost immediately, maintaining a stone cold poker face, sniffing silently - perhaps her tell - and continuing to observe without really registering a reaction.

“Well?” Masqued Maerin repeats his question.

Hy-Jinx doesn’t give Masqued Madeleine a chance to answer and slips off the mask with one hand. Taking her glasses from her pocket with the other, she puts them on and waits for her vision to return. Slowly the world begins to glow again, but dimly so. Going to Hood, Hy-Jinx looks carefully for the sphere - a difficult task, but she eventually locates it by his hand - and picking it up, places it in his satchel. She prods him gently, noticing a dim swirl of colours forming around his face and chest. “Hood,” she whispers, “we need to go,” but Hood is unresponsive and Hy-Jinx looks to the masked figures behind where she is crouched.

Masqued Maerin stares silently for a moment, then turns towards the grate at his feet and whistles sharply three times in quick succession. Two guild members, with their lower faces covered, climb quickly from the grate and, via a quick nod from Masqued Maerin, understand what they have to do, gently picking up Hood and his satchel, and manhandling him, albeit carefully, into the drain.

Masqued Maerin turns again to Hy-Jinx, offering her an upturned palm - a gentlemanly gesture - as if helping her into a carriage rather than a sewer: “Shall we? The evening is still young.”