Reaching the door, he slipped the key into the lock with ease, and the moment he did, two rounds slammed through the door. Finch felt a sticky wetness spray the left hand side of his face as the taste of blood filled his mouth. Turning the handle, he glanced left and watched Roddick's legs buckle and collapse, the right hand side of his face a bloodied mess from the one round that had found its target. As his companion hit the glazed tile floor, Finch barged the door open and stormed into the darkened room. Instinctively, he weaved left as the soft silenced sound of two more shots filled the air; one of the rounds hammered past his ear, far too close for comfort. Blindly, Finch fired off two rounds hoping one would find the gunman; brief flashes of light from the silenced muzzle engulfed t
