He's a friendly sort, this is useful for handling the quick and the paranoid for these simple kinda jobs. You run in, do the deal, shake hands, everyone walks away with money. And since they're cutting a really good deal? No reason for things to go weird. He...can't quite parse who said or did what or if some jackass just decided that keeping the guns AND the money was the best idea ever- but there was gunfire.
Okay, it's a Tuesday, no problem.
The shields hold up against the first spattering of fire, long enough for the subaudible and yet completely palpable thwoomp of sniper fire skating right over his left shoulder and exploding the helmet of the leader of this merry band of assholes to strike York as both A) Badass and B) really, really fucking hot.
Too long for a reverie and he tries, he really does, to get to cover. But that damn left side, no Delta to mind it, Saunders tucked down as soon as the guns came out like a smart guy and York's been more lucky than good for years-
Shotguns are good. They also have limited range. These fuckers have battle rifles and he really kind of wanted to forget the feeling of being gutshot and yet he's down, hand pressed to the armor, waiting for the healing unit he no longer has to kick in and start patching him up, half here and half five years ago, eight years ago when this shit was normal and something he was expected to walk off. The shields pop back on (a second late and a dollar short) but he's down. Here. Here's good. Keeping his guts inside that. That's good.
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Okay, it's a Tuesday, no problem.
The shields hold up against the first spattering of fire, long enough for the subaudible and yet completely palpable thwoomp of sniper fire skating right over his left shoulder and exploding the helmet of the leader of this merry band of assholes to strike York as both A) Badass and B) really, really fucking hot.
Too long for a reverie and he tries, he really does, to get to cover. But that damn left side, no Delta to mind it, Saunders tucked down as soon as the guns came out like a smart guy and York's been more lucky than good for years-
Shotguns are good. They also have limited range. These fuckers have battle rifles and he really kind of wanted to forget the feeling of being gutshot and yet he's down, hand pressed to the armor, waiting for the healing unit he no longer has to kick in and start patching him up, half here and half five years ago, eight years ago when this shit was normal and something he was expected to walk off. The shields pop back on (a second late and a dollar short) but he's down. Here. Here's good. Keeping his guts inside that. That's good.