Terminator 3: Hunt

Ten limped around the corner. His uniform and the right side of his face were burned—still smoking. His left arm gripped his right, holding it protectively; Mark couldn’t see the extent of the injury to that arm.
	But Ten was still moving, still in command. “Where’s Earl?” Mark asked.
	It happened almost all at once: a long, awkward pause with Ten not answering, merely staggering forward; Ripper’s growl, far more ferocious than the one he’d offered for Paul; Ten’s injured arm starting to come up; Kyla firing, an explosion that hammered at Mark’s ears.
	The .50-caliber bullet from the Barrett struck Ten in the forehead.
	The hydrostatic shock from the bullet should have created an exit wound the size of a saucer out the back of Ten’s head. It didn’t. Ten’s head snapped back and the man fell. Then he shook his head dizzily and rolled over, attempting to rise. Where his right arm should have been was a weapon, all spars and spikes and dancing blue light.
	“Run,” Kyla said.