I fake right, then cut left with every joule of energy in my body. The Mossberg devastates a lamppost a good half-dozen meters away from me, only now the SMGs are joining in the fun. Too late. I’m down an alley, out of the well-lit street, back into the darkness and the shadows that I know so well. Let the Lone Star Fast Response Team troopers clean up the mess. There’ll be an accounting soon enough.