Sam’s finger tightened on the trigger of the slivergun. The weapon bucked as it unleashed a steady stream of plastic fiechettes. Closely grouped needles traveling at slightly subsonic speed stitched a crimson line across the guard’s chest and right shoulder. He tumbled backward, bright blood spraying from his mouth, landing sprawled and still. His gun struck the floor, its metal ringing with a clear note that seemed obscenely pure in the sudden gory disarray.