He started and reached for his sidearm, even as I sprang forward. I slammed into him, pinning him against the bulkhead with the gun between us, but he fired it into my left leg. Two shots. Excruciating pain. I would have fallen if my synth leg hadn’t held me up. But somehow through the pain, my synth arm lashed out, wrenching the gun from his grip and turning it on him as though on instinct.
He was wearing a vest, but at such close quarters they don’t always stop MM rounds. I fired twice without even thinking about it and then watched the pain and disbelief radiate across his face as the second of the rounds penetrated the armor and tore through his chest.
The boy slumped against me and then slid down the bulkhead. I dropped to one knee, still trying to process what my arm had done so qu
