Headshots Servoskulls in near complete darkness

	Two of them appeared to have bolt pistols built into them, the barrels protruding grotesquely from between their teeth like inside-out suicides, and if they hadn't been forced to dance around to make themselves harder to hit, with the inevitable deleterious effect on their own accuracy, I have no doubt that I'd have shared the fate of the luckless enginseer. A third had a chainblade humming away beneath it, apparently in the fond hope that its gun-slinging bretheren would have been able to keep me busy long enough for it to part more than my hair, while the fourth seemed to be completely unarmed for some reason.
	That was the one. If it wasn't carrying a weapon, it had to be there to direct the others. Taking careful aim I steadied my arm against the metal of the staircase, thankful yet again for the augmentic fingers that let me hold my laspistol more firmly on the target than even the most skilled duelist could have managed and squeezed the trigger.
	To my immense relief the shot struck home, and the bone casing shattered.

Duty Calls pg. 255