Still thrown from the first kill-- though not<em>his</em>first... Marlowe goes cold when he recognizes the scientist.  Trained reflexes from years before spring back to life, and he fires a smooth, rapid triple tap... exactly as he was trained.  Two in the chest.  One in the head.  The 10mm resonates deeply, the shots so close upon one another that they echo as one.  The first two pop through her sternum, the third enters her left eye and mushrooms out from her braincase.<em>That's four rounds,</em>he notes, leveling his gaze over the slide of the gun as he searches the room.  "Sorry bout the crack before..." he skirts the twitching corpse, and can't help but wonder who else may be nearby.