Guns came out of holsters, sighting lasers flared. Slow, too slow. The deckers in The Armadillo were armed, ready to defend themselves. But though their reactions would have been as fast as thought in the Matrix, out here in the world of flesh and blood they were much too slow. One gun boomed, a heavy-caliber pistol, the bullet slamming into the door where the elf had been an instant before. It was Modal, she saw, bringing his Ares Predator back into line for another shot. Another shot that never came, because his target had vanished.