I rubbed absently at the scar under my eye. 'He overestimated me. I was supposed to kill him outright, but I missed. Probably would have killed himself at: that stage, but I messed up his arm trying to stop the machine pistol.' In my mind's eye the gun drops from splayed fingers and skitters across the floor. 'Blew it way out of his reach as well. He must have been lying there, willing himself to die when he heard us leaving. Wonder what make of synth he was using.'