Thunderous gunfire raged non-stop for a solid minute as both sides sought for the advantage in the first few critical ticks. Ricochets zinged everywhere and more busted stuff got smashed further. Moving and firing constantly, never giving the attackers a stationary target, Delphia heard his Zeist glasses whine as the IE circuits adjusted to the lack of light. Suddenly, he saw the doss clear as day, although in black and white. The dozen or so ambushers were norms in denim and leather, mohawk do’s and go-gang tats. Typical street samurai. Except that they were hammering with Mossberg CMDT rapid-fires, the glowing red dots of the integrated laser sights bouncing all over the place. Not the usual sort of bangbang for a punkster.