Wood splintered as bullets whizzed past his head, hitting the trees and stirring dust from the ground, momentarily blinding him, but he kept running. He could hear their shouts at his side, replied with broken commands of his own, and he could see his face at his side, smeared with dirt and blood.
His heart pounded against his ribs as he waited with baited breath, shield tucked close against his side and gun at his chest as he listened for the footsteps to come down the hall. Boots tapped against the tile. He straightened, lifted his gun and fired.
Debris fell around him, crumbling pieces of New York's buil