Thorn struggled to his knees. What . . . this is it ? Snuffed by a bunch of do-it-yourself mutants in an alley full of drek ? He pawed under his jacket for his gun, but a heavy boot swung out of the night and knocked the half-drawn weapon away. Thorn rolled aside from a follow-up stomp to the ribs, feeling the familiar rush as his speeded-up reflexes went into overdrive. He came up into a low crouch and whirled, one hand clamping against the kicking leg’s ankle, the other bringing pressure against the side of the knee, obtaining the nikyo hold. He twisted, bringing his weight to bear, grinning savagely as he heard the knee snap. The Hunter dropped in shrill agony. The others stopped their headlong charge Thorn felt the sweat break out icy-cold as his night-sight caught the subdued metallic gleams of various implements of destruction. With the immediate threat of gunplay cancelled out, the Night Hunters could finish Thorn their way, at their leisure. Speed alone wasn’t going to be enough. He was one dead elf.