Sam Fisher- Duck and Roll

The tech­ni­cians were us­ing the lull in the shoot­ing to flee the room, but among their move­ments, Fish­er glimpsed a fig­ure hold­ing a blocky, dark-shad­ed ob­ject.

The merc, he guessed, try­ing to flank me while Aslanov keeps me dis­tract­ed.
...

“I beg to dif­fer,” sneered the Rus­sian.

As if his re­tort was the sig­nal, the mer­ce­nary ap­proach­ing from Fish­er’s right veered out of cov­er and opened fire. The muz­zle flare from his SMG cut a bril­liant white swathe across Fish­er’s vi­sion as he ducked and rolled.

Fish­er re­sponded with his pis­tol, the bright flick­ers of ejected bul­let cases arc­ing away. Al­ready in­jured from their first en­gage­ment, the merc was slow on his feet, hop­ing to put down his tar­get with fire­pow­er and the el­e­ment of sur­prise. But Fish­er had seen him com­ing, and he knew there was only one ap­proach the gun­man could take.

De­ac­ti­vat­ing his tri-gog­gles, Fish­er dropped prone as the merc ex­e­cut­ed a bad­ly timed pop-up at­tack, com­ing over a com­put­er con­sole with his SR-2 sub-ma­chine gun canted at an an­gle. The oth­er man fired, but his shots land­ed where the merc pre­dicted Fish­er would be, not where he was.

Aim­ing up­ward, Fish­er did not hes­i­tate, plac­ing two 5.7mm rounds up through the bot­tom of the mer­ce­nary’s head. The dead man crumbled for­ward and col­lapsed across the con­sole, his SMG clat­ter­ing to the floor.

- Firewall, Chapter 24