The blow sent the Walther skittering across the floor. Alice didn’t have time to react before another kick sent her sprawling, bitter-tasting water filling her mouth. She rolled and pushed upright to face her opponent. His black clothing absorbed the faint light, making him more a silhouette than real. She must have taken him by surprise; he stepped back and drew his gun. Alice kicked out to send the weapon spiraling away, followed by a combination, which he parried. They stood, facing each other. She drew her knife. He followed, his blade short and silver, edges glittering. The alley was narrow, the floor flooded with oils, and her feet squelched in her boots as they sized each other up.