Traveling at twenty-eight hundred feet-per-second, a full-metal jacket round went forth along its trajectory, finding its home in less than a hundredth of a second.
Metal and bone burst from the slaver's shoulder as the round tore through, his voice going high as he screamed in pain. A second bullet tore through his back, bits of ribs and lung exploding from his chest before the third trigger pull was made from Galen's M-14.
The last round met the base of the slaver's skull, taking the head along with it as it passed through. The horse he rode gave a terrified whinny as it broke into a gallop. The decapitated corpse fell from the saddle with its feet still caught in the stirrups, a hand still grasping the reins and refusing to let go. As the horse took off into the forest, the body hung
