Talk about a short-lived comeback. By the time the runner's rifle falls silent, the man looks like someone wrote "you're fucked" in braile across his chest and belly... and he drops like a sack of bricks.<br/><br/>And with that, the camp falls well and truly silent. It wasn't exactly the smoothest op, but there's something to be said for being thorough... and it will be hard for the Jacks to trace Tzahala back to the Fists if none of the Jacks are still alive to ID their attacker.<br/><br/>Granted, she still has to climb her way out of the drainage ditch with 200 lbs. of dead weight slung across her shoulders; but at least now the runner isn't trying to do so with a hail of bullets at her back. In fact, the up-hill climb is almost refreshing as she makes her way up to where the Riverrunner hid the car...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"Oi, Mija..." The dreadlocked smuggler looks ill at the sight and smell of Dr. Teeth's wounds, but she also looks relieved. "Looks like you got into a hell of a party out there. Is he... I mean, will he be OK?"