Snippet #2560238

To say they lacked discipline would have been.. generous. As far she could tell, their "training" - if one wanted to call it such - probably amounted to little more than: "This end is where the shooty stuff happens." They had no control, and their trigger fingers were much too itchy. Popping off round after round in rapid succession in the general direction of the target. Sure, Amada had heard the term "spray and spray" before, but never actually encountered it. Mildly amusing, for sure. Leading shots also appeared a foreign concept, she imagined they simply pointed and fired, because all their bullets ended up just behind her. Even with the extreme velocity of a railgun slug, travel time was still a thing.

They were spread out, and scattering as the corporate troops thinned their ranks. That made getting up close even easier, and she took every opportunity. A gun provided a false sense of security. It presented a hypothetical comfort zone, allowing you to hold your enemy off within a certain perimeter of your effective range. Unfortunately for them, that only worked if you had the awareness to enforce it. All it took was a basic distraction. Their eyes veered off, locking onto someone or something else, and then she was behind them. She could not help but spare a quick, "'Sup," right before breaking a windpipe. He dropped his gun, clutching his throat, eyes bugging. His buddy swung around to meet her, and for his trouble he got a knife straight through his wrist. She wrenched the knife down, forcing him to his knees, and executed him with a single shot. The slug passed out the back of his skull, burrowing through the pavement below.

Up ahead, another group was just taking notice. Four of them had ducked into an alley. Her angle gave a perfect vantage of three, the last was just a head poking out from around the corner. Sidestepping apprehensively, she raised her sidearm and squeezed the trigger. The top of the fourth punk's head turned into confetti and a chunk of the wall beside the others shattered, spraying them with shrapnel shorn off by the force of the impact. The least affected went down first, and she dropped the others before they recovered.

"Okay, okay, okay," Mercer mumbled through the comm. "Finally got some overhead, that gives us a nice spectrum. Don't think you really need it, at this point. Looks like the festivities are dying down."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Amada watched the IFFs as they bobbed around on her HUD, a map of the small section of the city the fighting occupied gave her their exact positions. "I don't think we're getting overtime for this anyway, so fuck it." Just as she was starting to feel like she could relax a little, another bunch that had been cornered pushed back. Slugs whizzed by into the street, and Amada went for cover before returning fire. To her surprise, gunshots rang out from behind her. Rifle rounds pounded the hostiles, but all the inflicted wounds were nonlethal. "Oh, great," she rolled her eyes. That could only mean one thing.

Once they had been thoroughly.. decommissioned.. Amada stepped out tentatively, warily searching for any more surprises. Spying nothing, she looked back to where the shots had come from. The gunman in question stepped out from behind a car, hands slightly up in a peace offering. "You mind not killing the ones that aren't already dead? It would be nice to see what kind of bounties they have." Her eyes swept over him in a cursory analysis, and then briefly hopped to another man a bit behind him.

"Shoulda known the gunshots would have the rats scurrying. Afraid someone's going to screw over your claims?" Amada flicked her knife, casting any lingering drops of blood onto the ground, before sheathing it. Her pistol stayed in her hand as a precaution, but it lingered at her side. "Look, I don't have anything against saving a few bullets. If you wanna get to scavenging, you're more than welcome to," she sneered, momentarily glancing aside to check her peripheral. "Just try not to do anything overly stupid, would you? Gonna have enough paperwork to file, as it is." She shifted her weight, sliding her right foot back a few inches.