Deckard pointed to the front door, his other hand gripping his rifle, directing his men into the casino.
“Go!”
The assault squads pushed through screaming civilians and made entry through the double doors, the sounds of slot machines emanating from within.
A gunshot cracked in the darkness, Deckard looked up just in time to lunge out of the way.
The would be trigger man went face first into the cement, his teeth skipping across the street and bouncing off Deckard’s booted foot. Edging backwards he looked up, the neon lights on the building preventing him from seeing into the darkness above.
Spraying the lip of the roof with a hasty burst of fire, he continued backing towards the protection of one of the assault trucks, his shots taking out segments of the neon bulbs. Another shot sounded, another body collapsed forward, this one down with arms hanging limply over the edge of the roof. His H&K G3 rifle smashed through another neon sign on it’s way down before landing on the sidewalk amid a shower orange sparks.
The Sigs were a good choice after all, Deckard reflected.
Running back across the street he pushed through the door and into another gunfight.
Reflexive Fire 