I sprinted out of the alley, taking a hard left back onto Twenty-third. I looked over my shoulder as I ran. Pursuit hadn't emerged from the alley yet, but my original shadow-little miss ork-was legging it my way, brandishing a hogleg as long as her arm. Without slowing, I half-turned and slammed a bullet into the parked car beside her. She shrieked and flung herself into the cover of said punctured car. That's when I heard the heavy, booted running footsteps of my ambushers echoing out of the alley. Thank god, should she exist, that the Prowlers were mainly a thrill-gang. If they'd been a go-gang, I'd have had to contend with bikes as well as guns.