Falcon was frozen. Just for a moment, but long enough to see a flash of fire from within the copse, to see Cat-Dancing’s skull burst under the impact of a bullet. Then the darkness of the copse lit up with muzzle-flashes—three, four, more. Bullets whip-cracked around the ganger, slammed into the ground around him, kicking up divots. With a yell of fear, he turned and ran, out of the park, back onto Denny Way .