Worm: Prey 14.5, Sting 26.6

Mannequin, by contrast, was faster than any olympic runner, more agile than any gymnast.

[...]

What could I do?  I was a bystander here, effectively powerless, but for my beetle.  I had the gun, but it wouldn’t do anything to Crawler and I didn’t trust myself to hit Mannequin at this range.

[...]

I drew the gun and leveled it at Mannequin’s back.  He was running in a straight line, I remembered to click the thumb safety, squeezing the handle with both hands to get the grip safety on the back of the gun, and put him in the crosshairs, leading just a bit.  I could remember the tip you always heard in the movies.  Squeeze, don’t pull.  Exhale as you squeeze…

Visions of the dead Mannequin had left in my district flashed through my mind’s eye.  The paramedics, the bitchy old doctor, the people he’d gassed.  My people.

I could feel the recoil jolt its way through my arms to rattle my body at its core.

Mannequin fell.

How the hell did I manage that?

—Worm: Prey 14.5



Then I opened fire.

I’d first run into the scenario when I went up against Mannequin, before running up against Glory Girl. The first time I shot a gun, I hit my target.

Now I had a better idea of why.

Having bugs over the entire area, I had a sense of the area, of the topography, of where everything was. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an advantage. Something to help aim the shot, to help give me a sense of the path the bullet would travel. It was like being able to reach out with my arm in a perfectly straight line, touch my target, then aim along the line. The same effect I’d granted Foil, so she could snipe Tyrant.

—Worm: Sting 26.6