Daemon ignored Muckracker's question--yes, there was someone there. Obviously [i]someone[/i] had to have dropped the third gunman. Even if she had done her best to hide her presence, spontaneous unconsciousness was just a little too convenient.

Then, across the way, a new figure slammed into the man opening the door. Unintentionally her eyebrows shot up. What [i]was[/i] that? She could have sworn no one was there a bare second ago. Shielding her eyes against the light from the open door, she tried to make out how many people there were, and where the hell the new super had come from.

The sound of that deep voice gave her pause for a moment, as she tilted her head to listen for a moment. A part of her wondered, with some exasperation, just what he thought asking people to calm down would do. Civilians never did.

It took her several moments to realize she had stopped what she was doing, and the girl frowned. With an internal note about it, she shrugged off the brief hesitation.

With the smoke augmenting the cover of the darkness, props, and general backstage clutter, Daemon ran lightly towards and around them. From her new position behind them, she vaulted up a few boxes and then [i]leaped[/i] upwards, grabbing one of the vertical supports for the railing of the loft area. She used it to swing around, slamming herself feet-first into the stomach of the nearest goon.

As he tumbled to the floor, her momentum carried her past him and she went into a roll, coming up into a crouch. From there, a swift roll into a handstand and walkover brought her back to her feet, closing in on the next goon, inside his convenient reach. She continued the movement through with an elbow to his stomach before whirling into a thai kick, slamming her shin into the pressure point in his upper thigh.

As he stumbled, she grabbed his hair and slammed her knee up into his face.