Soft steps.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A grimy hand lands on black silk. Underneath, the flesh stiffens, then slowly turns.

He takes in her expression, unsatisfied. A glint of silver blinds her momentarily as he take out a knife.

She runs.

He chases.

It is a dead end of shadows, and the expression on her face is unfathomable.

The knife swings down. A small thud is heard as the lady takes a step back.

The knife takes a wild slash, and the lady steps to the side.

Another thud. Somebody is gasping loudly, struggling from the floor.

The grip of steel does not relent, and purplish fingers are beginning to imprint on the hapless arm.

Another glint of silver, and the knife swings down again.

The lady leaves.