She tugs at the strap slung from her left shoulder and drops one of the SMGs 
to the floor, rams a fresh clip into the other one and snaps the bolt. People 
are fighting to get away from her now, struggling against the press of the herd 
to escape the deadly menace of the hunter. It’s good, very good—not quite as
close and personal as she likes it but very good all the same. Good and bloody. 
The screams of the prey echo in her ears, and the scents of terror and death 
swarm lush and hot into her nose.