Don moved first. His hands separated, then came together again in the same motion—
CLAP!~
Another blast of force surged upward, distorting the air above him.
A few falling bodies twisted off course, spinning mid-air before crashing into the street at awkward angles.
One struck a streetlight and wrapped around it before dropping limp.
K-4's head snapped to the side. He spotted his rifle half-buried under debris, sprinted two steps, and snatched it up in one motion.
Blood slid down past his eye, but he didn't blink it away. He raised the weapon, braced the stock into his shoulder, and fired.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK!~
Three shots. Three hits.
Each round punched clean through skull or chest, dropping targets before they could hit the ground.
But it wasn't clean work. Pieces came down too—arms, fragments, things that still moved after they landed.
He adjusted his aim constantly, breath controlled despite the chaos around him.
