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Farren strode towards them, rifle held in a controlled firing grip as he reset the bolt in its barrel to be non-reactive on impact.
Time seemed to slow as the rigger’s trigger finger began to clench.
Farren took the shot. His target squeezed off a streaking blur of plasma, but Farren had already read its trajectory from the barrel’s angle, and darted left. The plasma streaked past him just as Farren’s bolt struck home. With a wet thump, the human’s shoulder came apart. Blood squirted high as the figure tumbled, insensate with shock, to the ground.

War of Secrets