Gunshots rang out. Some of the Corrupted Diamond Dogs took a few steps back as if receiving a strong buck to their chests. Gilda looked at Marco and saw him with a gun, smaller than whatever the Marines usually used, and silver instead of black. His hands shook after every shot, but after maybe the sixth shot, they steadied. His shots became less sporadic, slower, but surer. She glanced back and saw that his next two shots hit two of the Corrupted’s heads, taking them down permanently. 