"Sarge! Takin' fire! Evasive Maneuvers!" Alfred Pimoni was the best damn rear guardsman Curtis ever had the pleasure to lead. The amount of times he was able to repel a flank attack or react to an ambush led some of the men to think he was some sort of psychic. Affectionately referred to as "the Great" Pimoni, Al was the best of the best. 
The gunshot echoed through the alley, but Al was louder still. Already resting alert upon his cane securely founded in the pavement, Curtis was able to hoist himself off the ground in barely enough time to avoid being genuinely crippled, the bullet scraping across his uniform and leaving a large tear his pant leg. Lowering himself to the ground, Curtis cried to the blonde in disbelief.

"Do you know how long a male uniform takes to ship these days?!" In a huff, Curtis dropped his rouse and broke into a full sprint toward the woman. Shipping or no, he wasn't about to shoot the bitch. He'd just need to shorten the distance enough for a good wallop.

Maria's eyes grew wide as his prey bolted forward. How could a master of deceit not noticed such a ruse? More importantly, how was this old bastard dodging the-hell-fire-of-bullets-she-was-firing! Each stringed thought that passed between his doll like eyes was punctuated by an echoing shot as rounds left his pistols in quick succession as he backpedaled toward the woman(?) behind him.

Curtis narrowly dodged the onslaught of bullets thanks to the flurry of voices in his head barking tactical maneuvers; a broken psyche's interpretation of such rapid reaction time. Closing the distance quickly, the Sargent raised his cane above his head, ready to crash down upon the blonde's pretty head.

Maria nearly panicked as the man flew towards him, weapon hoisted and ready to strike. Thinking quickly, Maria hobbled on one heel and quickly jutted the other into the man's stomach, aiming his brilliantly gleaming pistol dead between his eyes.

With an oomph, Curtis felt his body crash against a spike and himself staring down the barrel of an unfriendly iron. Hastily gripping the woman's ankle in one hand, Curtis twisted her leg and swatted her pistol away with the cane in the other sending it toppling toward the woman still clenching the glass to her own throat in dismay.

Landing hard on the pavement, Maria scrambled to recover his weapon only to be pulled back by the old bastard still clinging to his leg through now with both hands and yanking him along the cement roughly. Turning from his weapon back to the man, Maria cut a swath across his forehead with her other heel leaving a gash and temporarily blinding the man long enough to grab his cane.

Curtis flinched as the heel slashed across his face, seeping blood into his vision. He flinched even more as his own came crashed down across the top of his head. His eyes shut tight, his ears ringing, Curtis almost didn't hear the familiar sound of his cane sword being unsheathed.

"Sarge, goddammit get your thumb outta your ass!" With a surge of energy, Curtis nearly the crushed the woman's leg in his palm as he wiped the blood from his eyes and saw the glint of metal before him.

"We tried to be civil..."

Curtis huffed to himself violently as he twisted the woman's wrist, wresting the blade from her hand. Climbing atop the woman, Curtis lifted the blade ready to cleave her pretty head from her shoulders. At least, until he heard the click of a pistol hammer from behind him.