Metz dragged himself to his feet as gunshots rang out, confusion slowing his reactions as he immediately dropped and span rightward, the first shot slammed straight into his left side, piercing his stab-proof vest and lodging in the bulletproof padding beneath it. The second was off-target as he span, and the third went straight through the flesh of his upper left arm as he turned, cutting through cleanly and out the other side. Blood spurted immediately but not enough for Metz to worry that an artery or vein had been severed; he was winded and wounded, but he still had fight in him yet.

Luckily, Metz was right handed, so as he jumped to his feet he could still fight, spying his enemy on the far platform, his weapon apparently out of ammunition, which had fortunately spared the Mage’s life. Still his foe showed no serious damage, his bolt had been unable to slow him down long enough for himself to even recover. What could bring the wolf down?

Mana was still pulsing, giving him an unnatural strength, alerting him to his ability to use more magic if necessary. Perhaps it was time to mix things up a little. He began to chant, his left arm weakly waving the necessary symbols as his right hand drew the pistol at his side. He cocked and fired in one motion, as he readied a bolt, so far the only thing quick enough to hit his foe and a prelude to a greater attack. The shot was only a distraction, but amazingly it was still accurate, destined for hitting centre of mass on his at least momentarily stationary foe.