He heard footsteps and readied his pistol. “Okay, let"s stop and assess the situation,” he called out to the newcomer. “All of your buddies are down, and you"re coming at us alone. You might want to reconsider.”
Several paces down the aisle, a man stepped out from between two crates. This one was dressed in some kind of glossy green jumpsuit that reflected the light, his black hair slicked back.
Jack fired.
Stun rounds bounced off the fabric of his jumpsuit, blue sparks spreading out in ripples over the glossy material. They seemed to have no effect on him. Dismay left a sick sensation in Jack"s chest. For every weapon, there was a defense.
The man turned and snarled at Jack, a scar stretching across his fair-skinned face from brow to cheek. “Perhaps not,” he said in a thick Russian ac
