And wished he hadn’t. There were four of them after him, Mohawked trolls in semi-military uniforms, heavy-duty handguns out. Where’d they come from? Falcon wondered. Had they been fragging summoned? But of course it didn’t matter where they’d come from. They weren’t more than twenty-five meters behind him, armed to the tusks, and coming like bats out of fragging hell. "Stop!" one of them roared. "Stop or we shoot!"