In the space of a half a heartbeat, the suspect had fired off six rounds. Faux leather booth cushions exploded, wood splintered, and behind him a boy screamed for an instant, then became horribly silent. The booth where Takagi had been sitting was shredded, the hollow point shells tearing into hardwood with awful efficiency. Saitoh caught her crouching down on the floor out of the corner of his eye, but she was covered in debris and in danger.
The bell on the front diner door dinged the same moment that another employee ran out of the kitchen entrance. It was the cook, an old grizzled war veteran, who was armed with a 10 gauge shotgun, standard weaponry for business people in this part of town. The old man fired, not at the blur that was Salamander, but towards five men, all armed, two with military grade automatic rifles. The blast took one down, his face dissolving beneath the force of buckshot traveling at over 400 miles a second.
Saitoh shot one through the chest, and was aiming for the third, when a round from what he assumed was Salamander ricocheted against his hip, sending him slamming backwards into the booth across from where Takagi was hiding. His armour sparked, the heavy electromagnetic field absorbing enough kinetic energy not to let the bullet pass through to this body, but not nearly enough not to not hurt. Another shot and he could tell by the sound of the body impact that the diner cook had been shot through the head and was either dead, or would be in a minute as the back of his shattered skull bled out over the dingy diner floor.
One of the men with an illegal rifle, one that Saitoh doubted his armor could protect against took aim. Saitoh shouted a warning to “KEN” to get his spindly ass behind something solid and, moving as fast as he could, yanked Takagi out from where she was hiding and shoved her behind him as he emptied the rest of his chamber at the group of intruders. Another man went down, his throat torn apart by the force of the impact. Saitoh took the second he was given, reloaded, retreated quickly toward the back of the diner, trying to keep himself between those who were innocent and might be innocent and those who were most certainly were not.
Why aren’t they shooting?)
He glanced back and to his immense displeasure saw that in the fracas, that the surviving intruders had just tossed epi pens and now had AMP or something even worse coursing through their systems.
Re: Part 1
The bell on the front diner door dinged the same moment that another employee ran out of the kitchen entrance. It was the cook, an old grizzled war veteran, who was armed with a 10 gauge shotgun, standard weaponry for business people in this part of town. The old man fired, not at the blur that was Salamander, but towards five men, all armed, two with military grade automatic rifles. The blast took one down, his face dissolving beneath the force of buckshot traveling at over 400 miles a second.
Saitoh shot one through the chest, and was aiming for the third, when a round from what he assumed was Salamander ricocheted against his hip, sending him slamming backwards into the booth across from where Takagi was hiding. His armour sparked, the heavy electromagnetic field absorbing enough kinetic energy not to let the bullet pass through to this body, but not nearly enough not to not hurt. Another shot and he could tell by the sound of the body impact that the diner cook had been shot through the head and was either dead, or would be in a minute as the back of his shattered skull bled out over the dingy diner floor.
One of the men with an illegal rifle, one that Saitoh doubted his armor could protect against took aim. Saitoh shouted a warning to “KEN” to get his spindly ass behind something solid and, moving as fast as he could, yanked Takagi out from where she was hiding and shoved her behind him as he emptied the rest of his chamber at the group of intruders. Another man went down, his throat torn apart by the force of the impact. Saitoh took the second he was given, reloaded, retreated quickly toward the back of the diner, trying to keep himself between those who were innocent and might be innocent and those who were most certainly were not.
Why aren’t they shooting?)
He glanced back and to his immense displeasure saw that in the fracas, that the surviving intruders had just tossed epi pens and now had AMP or something even worse coursing through their systems.