I stood with my back to the wall, gun in hand. Ten bullets in here, four spent, if I’d counted right. I’d always sort of rolled my eyes at how movies treated guns and counting bullets, but it was harder than I’d thought.
You’d think counting the shots fired wouldn’t be difficult, but then everything happens so quickly.
The shock and disorientation that came with firing a gun tended to disrupt even basic arithmetic.
That too.
I couldn’t remember how many times I’d fired during the fight in the parking lot.
“I’ve been turning every microbe that touches my skin into an airborne plague, Jack,” Panacea spoke, her voice low. “You should be dead now.”
I take it that’s what the heavy air was about.
But unfortunately Bonesaw has helped protect him against that kind of thing too.
“And me?” I called out, feeling a pang of alarm.
I think you’ve managed to dodge it? Maybe?
“I didn’t know you were there. You should be dead too. Sorry.”
I mean, clearly neither of them are dead yet, so something’s not quite right here.
But hey, I have previously speculated on Taylor being resistant to these sorts of things due to her bug affinity.
“A benefit of little Bonesaw’s smoke,” Jack answered. “If I recall correctly, it’s something of a safeguard in case she accidentally deploys a concoction she hasn’t immunized herself or the rest of our team against. The fact that it works against bugs and small rodents is a side benefit, rather than the intent.
Oh, huh.
Bonesaw’s work has made us members of the Nine more or less immune to disease anyways.”
“And the gunshot?”
That too.
“Subdermal mesh. There’s more protection around the spine and organs, and you landed that shot pretty close to my spine. It hurts quite a bit.”
Hurts, but ain’t gonna kill him.
He did just tell her where she should be shooting, though. And that shooting isn’t entirely pointless. Pain can incapacitate.
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