The first shot clips the helmet from the soldier in front, while the second rings true. The recoil on the pistol is unfamiliar, and he has yet to adjust his style for it. But not altogether foreign, he finds, as the next shot comes easily to him. It’s still too few bullets for too many assailants. Booker looks to his companion, and then to the silver rails overhead.
“ So how about them Sky-Lines? ”
;⚜—ℒ⊱
She grimaces, then picks her way over a body to him. They have little choice by this point with the way Booker’s squandering his ammunition, and she knows that a second pair of eyes will be useful to him with the soldiers in such heavy pursuit of the man.
“Should you drop me, you will have more to worry about than soldiers.“
