Aimard grunted in frustration as a cloud whispered around his head, clouding his vision. Half a second later, he saw a foot emerge from the smoke, going in a straight trajectory towards his head. For all his attacker's speed, Aimard too was quick, and he bent his neck just far enough so that his attacker's foot only clipped the side of his head, staggering for a slight moment but otherwise ineffective. Aimard gauged the direction from which the foot come from as it flashed by, swinging his blade in an arc from the front to the back, trying to catch his target mid-air from chest to face.<br/><br/>His blade found no purchase, but Aimard could turn around and adhere to the movement of his arm, settling into a stance and poised to strike. But this was a mere feint. An instant afterward, the Smith and Wessons' 500 was greeting Aimard's opponent with its barrel and a chambered round.