As he watched, the man known to him as Metz pulled a flask from his waist and downed it like a shot, and immediately he felt the man's presence in the chamber enlarge. Almost intimidating in its size.

Then, his ears flicked. Eyes danced and flickered to a source of new movement.

Metz's hand shot down to his holster and drew.

The soft clicking of the holster's clasp undoing itself gave it away.

Just as the gun leveled itself at him, he moved. His opponent's trigger squeeze would coincide with his immediate movement to the right, a short twist and hop on the same platform to get him a small distance away from the bullet. The round whizzed past him, audible to his ears, as it thudded into the statue behind him, releasing a cloud of dust.

Daniel furrowed his brow. His opponent was much faster than a regular dude. Retaliation was necessary.

Just like his opponent had, in one smooth motion he drew his handgun in his left, took aim and fired twice. His first trigger squeeze was on target, aimed straight at Metz's center of mass, but his second, coinciding with the recoil of the first, went high and left; the second bullet would most likely just whizz past the right side of his opponent's head harmlessly, unless he moved into its path of course.