Shotgun vs Marine face

He didn’t scream, or thrash, or soil himself as Maruc had done. He let the creature lift him, and once brought up to the monster’s face, he fed it his shotgun barrel.
No defiant last words for Hound. No quip or courageous laugh. He clenched his teeth, stared with blind eyes, and pulled the trigger over. The first shot blasted the beast’s fangs to powder and made mincemeat of its tongue. The second blew the contents of its maw out the back of its throat. There was no third shot. The Corsair hammered its fist into Hound’s chest with a wet, snapping crunch, and hurled the body aside with far greater malice than it had thrown Maruc. Hound missed the water completely, pitching clean over the pool and hitting the far wall with an ear-aching crack. He tumbled to the decking, boneless and still.
...
	Though the gunfire did little more than ache like scratches upon the skin, the little bastard’s shotgun blasts left him reeling, muted by the wounds, and trembling with the lingering agony. It fuelled his anger, as was only righteous, but Blood of the Pantheon, it also hurt.

Blood Reaver