Redding kept his gaze at the bartop, both his hands still around his beer bottle, the glass starting to form beads of water rolling down to his hands ever so often. For such a violent entrance, it had made the bar silent and stock still. Redding's heart was going at a good pace, alright, but fuck them if they thought he would go out without at least spilling some of their blood. As murmurs went up around the Desperado, he took it as a safe time to talk now, albeit in his quietest voice as he subtly looked at Big and Vault-Girl, “You and your little friend are on the chopping block just as much as I am if I know who just walked in here.” He said, letting that sink in, “And you too, Vault-Girl. The second you see me so much as twitch, we three're getting cozy behind this bar.”

“Now, Mr. Sch-”

Redding fixed David with a savage glare and he shut up, slowly sinking behind his bar, the time had passed for being nice. Another gunshot rang out and the cry of a random patron pierced the silence with it, “I'm running out of patience-”

“Fuck you!” Just then, Redding stood up fast enough to send the barstool clattering against the floor, throwing his beer bottle at one of the mercenaries and pulling his pistol, emptying the magazine as he leapt behind the bar. First thing he did was push David out of the way and grab the short-barreled sawed-off the barkeep kept at hand. By then, the Desperado had erupted into a glorious cacophony of yelling and gunfire, Redding could barely hear himself think. Oh, yes, today had become far, far, far too interesting for Redding's liking. One merc strayed too close to the bar, advancing under their partners' covering fire. Redding leaned out from behind the bar, squeezing the trigger and feeling the jolt in his shoulder, emptying one barrel that blew the leg off one at the kneecap. The other barrel was used to turn the gangly fuck with two knives' head to a fine mist with the occasional bit of skull. Two down, but there was still too many for Redding's comfort.

His mind went to the mousy woman on her lonesome, but she wasn't his problem. Still, Big would not be happy if Little's blood was on his hands. He reached over and grasped up the box of shotgun shells kept near the hooks the gun was kept on. He reloaded, not quite enjoying the soft shower of liquor and glass from the exploding bottles above him. “I'm gonna catch you Teresa, and your two fuckhead partners! First thing I'm doing is ripping your goddamn heart out, you bitch!” He yelled from his cover, already imagining it as he gritted his teeth, his eyes wide. He hazarded another peek and emptied a barrel into One-Leg, making his face a red, pulpy crater and ceasing his incessant swearing and pleading for his mother. As he plucked a shell from the box to replace the spent one, he looked over his shoulder, "How's everyone holding up?" He asked, slipping his second magazine into his pistol with a satisfying click as he released the slide catch.