Oscar immediately rolled behind a couch as a hail of bullets burst from the newly opened doors, swearing as a shot just barely missed his face. "Son of a BITCH!" After his enhancement, he could take a shot or two without dropping, but something told him he wasn't THAT bulletproof - certainly not enough to stand up against the storm of gunfire long enough to sprint into the VIP lounge and start punching people. [i]Why the fuck was I the only one who brought a gun...[/i]

An idea crossed the criminal's mind as his gaze fell on a heavy metal gambling table right across from him. He might not be bulletproof enough, but that thing looked as though it might be... 

Immediately, he rolled behind the table and began straining to lift it, managing on his own to get it a few feet off the ground. "Oi, luchador!" he called out the the girl in the belt who'd loudly supplexed someone through a table a moment ago. "Help me with this! Everyone else get behind us, we're gonna ram this thing into the bastards!" If they could just get close enough, the villains could punch and stab and smash the hired muscle to their hearts content - so Oscar strained, and hoped the rest of the freaks would back him up with this.