[b]Wire[/b]

When the first shot had reverberated around the hall, Wire was the first to pull out his gun. Time for him almost ceased to move, as he spun around and saw the fool who had fired his gun in the most idiotic place imaginable. He whipped the handgun round and watched as the laser sight painted him. He pulled the trigger twice, and both of his biceps had bullet wounds. He paused as he hoped beyond hope that that would be the end of it.

It was not. Gunfire erupted all around as the meet was thrown into chaos.

[i]...Perhaps we overestimated their discipline.
Perhaps someone just got shot dead by a small time bossman and now people want blood.
Its like they're sharks.
Try not to die.
Heh.[/i]

With his head on a swivel, Wire backed up against the wall, wary of a counterattack from the gang he had just shot at, and wary of any other fools that felt like taking him out. He saw one gun aimed in his general direction, and with a quick step to the side, he was able to avoid being hit: he wasn't fast enough to dodge a bullet, but he was fast enough to dodge a trigger finger. A Korean gangster near him fell backwards as a bullet perforated his lung. Another two bullets shattered the killer's shoulders.

Scanning the room now in full anarchy, he could see that some of the bigger gangs were working together. Or at least, they weren't shooting at one another. Good news: it wasn't [i]full[/i] anarchy. Still, as soon as the metas came into play, Wire could see that this was all going to go to hell unless something acted quickly. Until something else came to his attention, that something was going to have to be him. A speedster was heading straight to Marconi, the benefactor of this cauldron of blood. He saw that his partner was shouting something at him, but time was moving too slowly for him to understand his words. There was too much going on. Wire fully stopped time in an effort to calculate his next move. In a millisecond that lasted 10 minutes, Wire planned. He reloaded with pinpoint precision and kept the number 14 in his head. 14 bullets. 14 deaths, or 14 injuries. That was the one decision that he still had to make.

With a running step, the man in the helmet propelled himself forwards and over the table in a corkscrew. His gun blazed 14 times in a circle of semi-automatic fire, raining lead on the out of control metas and whoever had the audacity to bring a machine gun. He did not miss: not with a laser sight. Wire wasn't able to see the effects of his shots because with each, he had to refocus on his next target and decide how best to handle them. But now he was on his back, and sliding off the other end of the table. He knew that he had aimed to shatter the shin bone of the meta with a knife running directly to Marconi, and that he had had 11 targets in total. 3 of them could be taken out with two shots to the shoulders. 2 of them needed a lethal shot: the ice queen Hailstorm, and an electricity wielder who decided it would be a good idea to fly up and fry people. They both took a shot to the neck, as they would not be reasoned with and they would not be put out of action with a simple injury. Other than that, he had aimed to shoot the lighter out of the hand of a fire manipulator, breaking his index finger in the process, and attempted to down 3 of the leading Iranians to try and put them on the retreat. He'd also watched as one of his targets stumbled backwards as a bullet connected with his forehead. As expected, his partner was a frighteningly good shot. Of course, Wire would not know if [i]he[/i] was until he could reload and get off the damn table. Looking up, Wire had the displeasure of seeing an angry man ready to put a gun in his face.

He rolled backwards over his head, kicking him square in the jaw with both feet. The man was sent straight backwards to the floor, and Wire landed low, with his back to what he assumed was mahogany. Crouched down below the table kept him from being shot from the other side; only the top of his helmet was showing to the other side. He had burned through his entire clip, and was now facing potential opposition. It was such a mixed bag here, he couldn't judge easily who was actively trying to kill him and who wasn't. And seeing the rather flashy stunt he had just pulled, he figured that he'd find out quickly now.

In fact, he was counting on it. Wire pulled out another magazine.