If he'd jumped in just now, he'd already be dead.
Rumble, rumble.
Heavy footsteps behind him.
Internet Surveillance evaluated John's firearms and deployed several heavily armed operatives to block the corridor.
Bang!
Heavy shotgun blasts cleared the doorframe.
A few big guys stepped out, stood at the end of the corridor, and faced the passage, firing to purge it.
John dodged at the absolute limit, but his thigh still got grazed.
Outside the building, a hovercar went into a hover and locked position.
It activated panoramic thermal imaging, syncing John's position into the operatives' cyber eyes.
Running was meaningless.
So John stopped running.
He raised his rifle and fought back, standing in the flower of buckshot muzzle-flash, trading fire in a frenzy, cobalt-blue arcs of electricity shaving apart the subdermal armor under his skin, bringing a wave of searing sting.
But his depleted-uranium rounds shattered their heavy armor.
