"Bisma lands heavily among the mercenaries, taking two gunshots to his tactical vest in the process."
The violent impact of the heavy ceramic plates absorbing two high-velocity rifle rounds rang through Bisma's ribs like a sledgehammer strike, but he did not allow the blinding wave of pain to slow his momentum by even a fraction of a second. The dark garden of Minister Vance’s estate had dissolved into a nightmare of shattered glass, torrential rain, and thunderous gunfire. The multi-layered glass canopy of the grand conservatory lay scattered across the wet flagstones in thousands of glittering, razor-sharp shards, reflecting the harsh strobe of muzzle flashes and distant lightning.
Bisma came up out of his hard roll on the rain-soaked stone patio, his combat boots slipping slightly a
