The shot that grazed his arm was a taste of the one that impacted at his center of mass. Scarlet pain lanced through his shoulder and he spared the straight-line gut an annoyed grimace as he threw himself away from the path of the bullets and towards the gunman—gunwoman? gunperson? whatever. The other shot hit him in the lower left quadrant of his body and he grimaced at the sharp fire of tearing pain as it came to an abrupt halt in the muscles of his abs. Any less physically fit and that shot would have made him a paraplegic, not that he knew it. All he knew was that there was a damned wasp tearing up his mid-section.

He hissed an obscenity.

Aredil jerked once against the shot and continued pushing forward, ducking under the salvo and heaving his axe out of the concrete wall by sheer strength. If a few chunks of concrete and a rain of gray dust accompanied the rasp of nickel-iron superalloy, he didn't notice it. The heavy weapon spun heavily as he brought it under-arm towards the barrels of the guns in an arching slice with enough range to take her wrists off if she wasn't careful.

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["Ow, ow, ow ... oh, it hurts to be so good!" - Ramirez]