Chelkar Ran and dodged as many of the incoming shots as he could. Those shots that missed ricocheted and bounced off the metal supports around him and one even caught him full in the chest and forced him to half stagger into the railing And grunt in annoyance and pain. At least his armour absorbed the Entirety of the blow. This time anyway. He was not keen to push that luck further. 

The rounds seemed to stop as his attackers attentions became pre-occupied with one of the Traitor marines firing wildly into their ranks. He himself ignored this man and focused on capitalizing on this opportunity. Quickly resting his lasgun on the railing and pulling the stock into his sholdier he aimed as quickly as he could and thumbed the switch to full auto before opening a hail of lasbolts down at the newly formed mobs beneath him. It seemed someone was trying to organize the Imperial defence. To little avail it seemed but if not delt with it could quickly become an annoyance. 

He focused this first barrage on the armsman, particularly the ones that just fired at him. They seemed to focused and cowed by the sight of the traitor marine that they did not even respond as he cut down no less than seven of them. Each of them gargling in pain or simply thudding to the ground dead. 

Checking his powerpack supply quickly he realized that he was soon going to be running dry and forced onto his last clip if this kept up. But these bastards had thicker armour than he liked and it couldn't be helped for now. He was ready to jump back and run to a new loaction in the catwalk when... nothing happened. Even after killing seven of them as easily as cutting down wheat they still seemed focused on targets other than him. 

He didn;t even bother to shrug, he simply aimed and re-targeted the same group of armsmen and opened fire a second time. Ten more lasbolts split the air but his aim was far worse this time. Only three died and the two that were wounded were barely so. Swearing under his breath, which through the rough grill of the resperator sounded like a low rasping growl of incoherent nonsense. He swore yet again when he checked his power pack and noticed he was nearly dry. 14 shots left. Switching the pack off overcharge and back to normal strength he was going to have to pick his targets more carefully.