As soon as FP kicks in the door, he hears the shotgun blast. He can barely make out bandana through the muzzle flash. He's crouched behind the stairs with an older model shotgun. Off to his left at the base of the stairs, stands a terrified junkie holding a large caliber automatic pistol. It's shaking in his hands and his eyes are as wide as dinner plates with utter terror.
With complete ease and fluidity of motion, the large sword wielding ork dives to one side, avoiding the cloud of pellets flying his way at supersonic speeds. He hits the ground and rolls to his feet, charging at his shotgun wielding assailant, blade held high. With a grin, he turns his weapon to face the ork as he comes. It looks to FP like he's going to be a little slow to get to him before he gets another shot off, but Viso, true to his word, has got his back. -POP! POP! POP!- A volley of shots slams into Bandana hard from the side and he winces in pain and hesitates for a moment.
A moment is all FP needs. In a flash, he's on top of his opponent, cutting him and cutting him deep. He's drops his weapon on the way to the floor, bleeding profusely. Even if the ork doesn't finish him off, he might not survive the night. Suddenly, another -POP! POP! POP!- This time, from the kitchen. Both FP and Viso instinctively tense up, but no shots go anywhere near them. When FP turns around, he can see another ganger with long oily brown hair and a synthleather jacket has tripped over the fleeing junkies while trying to fire at you, but has only woundup firing his pistol wildly into the wall and ceiling.
The junkie with the pistol takes one look at the situation, drops the gun, and hauls ass toward the kitchen, hopping over the fallen ganger as he does.
"Plays!? Plays don't keeyil me!?" He screams at the top of his lungs, while crawling backwards away from FP, into what probably used to be a dining room. "Plays!? Ah dowanna dah!"
