Benito ducked into the stairwell, and a small, heavy object rolled across the floor. It bumped against the far wall and exploded with a hollow thump as I reflexively crossed my arms over my face.

The concussive blast washed over me, sent me hurtling against the wall, and heavy shreds of shrapnel burrowed into my armor. The explosion left me stunned, bleeding from a hundred gashes and cuts, and my left hand twitched erratically.

“Fuck, Benito,” I groaned, grabbed the shotgun with my good right hand. Internal monitors fed the damage across my retinal display, grim enough news that I cut off the power to my damaged arm. My whole left arm fell lifeless to my side, rigid and heavy.

“Now it’s your ass!”

From the stairwell, I heard the echoing thunder of a sub-gun, sharp retorts from assault rifles. Got to my feet, sprinted for the stairwell and leaped over the rail. I took the landing effortlessly on my right cyber-leg and continued down the stairs.

The gunshots went silent and shell casings rattled underfoot.