Jacer's lack of military training was showing, a properly trained solider would take stock of the abilities of their comrades, even if they had turned against them - which, in thie case, Jacer would surely see that Shugtil did, at least from his point of view. A smile threatened the edges of Shugtil's face as the bullet sliced through coat and bit into the barest flesh of Jacer's arm. A single hit was all he needed for his long game to come into effect. The bullets he fired had been augmented with the releasing nanobots, which left a trail of themselves until they were spent. At this distance, Jacer had been well within range to be affected by the shot. 

Shugtil's eyes could see the trail, minute as it was, connecting from the tip of the gun and heading towards Jacer. His movements would effectively carry the string around with him, unless he somehow disengaged them. It were entirely possible, as a sufficient showing of energy could override them. It'd happened before. 

Shugtil was prepared though, his opponent had chosen to go the method of the gun instead of closing the gap and utilizing his considerable abilities in a close range effort. 

If he wanted to make this a gunfight, then Shugtil would happily oblige. He was skilled in the art of the gun, considering it was one of the essential tools to his abilities in laying down the ground work for later effects. 

Having stopped shortly after the shot, and seeing that it had bit into his opponents skin, he wasted little motion, the gun already training itself on Jacer, so that when he began easing the gun towards Shugtil, the latter's finger was already depressing the trigger. If he got the shot off in time, it would force Jacer to abandon the method he was taking, or take the shot slightly left of center mass. Shugtil was banking on the former. 

The silent man of string simultaneously began priming the next stage of his plan, with his bullet firing off - leaving a trail of nanites, his magic was already clicking into the other three previously laid strings. The game was slowly shifting to his type of battle, one where he controlled where his opponent was allowed it go and where he wasn't. 

Already he had laid the foundation, two bullets had been stopped short, so short strings were to be expected. One ripped through coat and flesh to lodge itself into the sturdy wall behind Jacer. Perfection. The last fired bullet, would seal the deal, so to speak. It would lay four primary lines down, keeping his opponent, a now known traitor, within a small window to move in, for fear of crossing the lines.