Heavy panting echoed throughout the bar, now riddled with holes from the battle. Thick smoke—a mix of dust, gunpowder, and debris—fogged the surroundings. As it slowly thinned, the heavy silence that followed the deafening gunfire stretched over everyone.
"Ransom," Florida called, stepping out from behind the shelf where he had taken cover. He took in the sight of the bar, the dust hanging in the air—disturbed remnants of what had just transpired.
Slowly, Ransom rose from cover as well, scanning the area to make sure every enemy inside had been taken down. The men from Gigante also began emerging from behind the bar counter, where they had hidden whenever the mercenaries fired back.
For a moment, silence reigned until Florida caught movement outside.
Without thinking twice, he raised his rifle and aimed at the broken window.
BANG!
"Don't shoot!" the lackey outside shouted, ducking beneath the window. He barely avoided the bullet. "I'm not an enemy!"
