Brooks wasn’t eager to stay stood out in the open after the sound of gunshots so close. With a flinch he’d turn to ensure Abigail had made her way to hide, something he always hoped she’d do when shit hit the fan.
As the three head honchos along with their plethora of goons came barging into the bar Brooks was already hauling ass over the counter, pressing himself against its woodwork as the bullets started hailing above. Aside from the low, almost annoyed sounding, grunts emitting at the ever so close whizzing bullet, Brooks remained as calm as possible. This hadn’t been the first time he got entwined in another man's shoot-out, clearly.


Taking in deep, heavy breaths from his nose, all Brooks could hear for the moment was yelling and screaming, bullets breaking bottles and embedding themselves into the concrete walls, and the splatter accompanied by the barkeepers body going limp onto the counter.
As the ginger voiced out, Brooks could do nothing but shoot the man a clearly unimpressed scowl, “How many of them-” he stopped mid sentence due to the all too familiar sound of a grenade pinging against the wall and bouncing down between the three tucked behind the counter. Brooks, not wasting a second, reached out for the grenade and tossed it right back over like a game of hot potato, only a lot more deadlier.


“We stay squatting back here any longer and we’re -done- for.” he’d bark out, his adrenaline starting to rise along with his voice as he slowly came to the realization that the grenade could have just killed all three of them, however he managed to keep his composure.