Fenn had to praise the human’s reflexes, if nothing else. The improvised missile he had thrown his way had been stopped on its tracks, kept at bay by a combination of sure-footing and a swift interception at the hands of the blades stuck at the end of the man’s weapon.

But in order to do that, the man had chosen to stand still at the face of the demon’s charge, and Fenn would not be halted nearly as easily. If the human sought to overpower him, he would find his efforts to be deeply inadequate.

As Fenn closed, hot in the heels of his projectile, the hunter’s machine gun let out its heavy report. Passingly familiar with this era’s weapons, the beast rose one of its thick arms, using it to shield its eyes. Metal slammed and plinked off against enchanted chain and hardy scales. Through the battle-haze descending on Fenn’s mind, the few bullets that managed to find the softer spots in his armor registered as little more than stabbing pinpricks to the hulking beast. 

Pieces of the demolished bench were just beginning to clatter against the plaza’s floor by the time Fenn closed the distance with his quarry, and the arm that had shielded the demon’s face until then whipped out in a vicious backhand towards the hunter’s midsection.