[hider=Mood Music][center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pk4x6Py8-Co[/youtube][/center][/hider]
When K-Ton took cover by Ramsay, the driver offered his fellow H-10 member nothing more than a friendly pat in response to the nod. Indeed, no time for a tea-time chat. He considered saying something, and opened his mouth to do so, but quickly thought better of it when a fireball whizzed past their shared cover. When K-Ton launched his own assault against the man, Ramsay peeked up from cover with his gun in hand, hoping to provide some covering fire and line up a shot. A spray of bullets from another direction changed his mind rather quickly as Ramsay was forced to duck down beneath a splintering shower of broken wood chips bursting from his cover. By the time Ramsay got his bearings and was able to look up again, he saw K-Ton standing over the Breaker.

[i][b]BANG[/b][/i]
 
"AAAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH!"

[i][b]BANG[/b][/i]

"AAAAAAAAAUU-"

[i][b]BANG[/b][/i]

Ramsay watched with wide eyes as K-Ton went through the brutal ritual of taking out the flaming Beater. Though his eyes at first showed nothing but shock, Ramsay let out an almost detattched chuckle. 

[color=lightseagreen]"Hohoholy shit bro. Holy shit."[/color] Ramsay laughed out as K-Ton returned to the cover. He was otherwise at a loss for words. After taking a moment to breathe, a stray gunshot caught his attention, bringing him back to the fight. Peeking through a rather convenient bullet-hole that had punched through the wooden crate, Ramsay saw that one of the Breakers had a similar idea -just a couple feet away he was hiding behind a very similar crate. A smile slipped across Ramsay's face as he saw the Breaker begin to stand, about to switch from cover to cover. [color=lightseagreen]"OI! JACKASS!"[/color] Ramsay shouted to get the mans attention as he rose from cover, gun leveled at his head. The Breaker looked at Ramsay with the eyes of a dead man, stopping dead in his tracks. He had a strange multicolored glow coming out of every orifice, nauseating to look at. Hopefully an effect from Neon. [color=lightseagreen]"Lights out, prick."[/color] Ramsay said with a smile, pulling the trigger.

[i]click. click. click.[/i] Came the gun's unenthusiastic response. It was the Breakers turn to smile as he raised his own pistol after he fully digested the situation. Not hesitating to let the man line up his shot, Ramsay dove at the man furiously, shoving him down to the ground. [color=lightseagreen]"Goddamnit, that was going to be really badass!"[/color] He shouted angrily, using his MAC-10 as a club to beat the man. All it was good for, at this point. Again and again, the cold metal of the gun came down on the gangsters head, crushing in the skull like a rotten pumpkin. Ramsay didn't stop until the face was completely unrecognizable, at which point he spit on the corpse. This time he didn't hesitate to move, truly understanding the gravity of the fight. He dashed to more cover, grabbing the Breakers pistol as he ran. Upon finding cover behind some old beat up jalopy -a junker of a Fisker, it looked like, Ramsay checked the pistol for ammunition. He looked back to the crate where K-Ton was, giving him a non-committal nod as he leveled the pistol across the hood of the car. He readied himself to provide cover for the man if he chose to move over as well, but otherwise focused on the fight.

Ramsay scanned the carnage, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. Dead breakers were in a maccabre orgy of corpses strewn across the cold floor of the AutoMach, blood pooling into great murals of violence on the concrete -a tribute to the bloody deeds of the Breakers. All around, the fruits of their labor was evident: a man with a hole through his chest the size of a watermelon, a man shot through his kneecaps and face, a bloody pulp that Ramsay could only assume was once a living human, a man with a fist-shaped hole in his head- that one stopped Ramsay cold as he recognized the face. 

Perhaps it had been naive to think that only Breaker blood would be spilt in this firefight, but Ramsay had never actually considered the fact that some of his crew wouldn't be making it back. Ramsay's eyes lowered away from the battlefield, hands shaking violently as he loosened his grip on the pistol. Even as he considered walking away, going back to the van and letting it all blow over, his mind strayed back to the poor Breaker lying on the ground with a hole punched through his chest -reminding him of why it was they were here. This wasn't a power play, this wasn't for territory. This was revenge. Goddamn if revenge wasn't something the H10 crew did best. With this inspiration, Ramsay popped his head up from cover, pistol waving wildly from side to side as he searched for a target. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he saw a Breaker just standing around, doing some Tai Chi shit or something. He squeezed the trigger and -

[i]click. click. click.[/i]

[color=lightseagreen]"Son of a bitch! Again?"[/color] Came Ramsays infuriated response as the pistol in his hand sprung to life seemingly, the magazine coming out to waggle in front of his eyes tauntingly. He looked again at the Tai Chi motherfucker and realized he was riding a hell of a glow on Neon. His voice was small as he looked around at the psychic's influence over so many weapons around the battlefield. [color=lightseagreen]"But that was my schtick..."[/color] He said softly as his bullets danced around his head like sugar plums on Christmas morning. As if he had something to prove, Ramsay pulled a pill from his pocket and quickly swallowed it, taking no time to savor the chalky texture.

Almost instantly, Ramsay looked down at his necklace containing his two doses of Neon and realized his mistake. His skin tingled with stimulation from all angles, the exact opposite of Neon's effect on him. He turned out the pocket, trying to figure out exactly what pill he had just popped from his collection of designer drugs. His fingers shook, spilling little colorful capsules of wonder all across the floor, as well as the magazine he never  loaded into his MAC-10. Forgetting his drug-induced plight, Ramsay hurriedly loaded the MAC-10 with a wavering chuckle before shoving it into a shittily put together holster at his hip, instead raising the half-assembled Breaker's pistol.

Even as he held up the 'borrowed' firearm, it was being pulled apart by the psychic. That just pissed Ramsay off more. He slid across the hood of the bullet-riddled car he had been hiding behind, and started a furious charge at the psychic, only to see him swarmed by... wasps? [color=lightseagreen][i]"Huh. Neat"[/i][/color] Thought Ramsay as he lunged at the man to tackle him, prepared to pistol whip him dead like the other Breaker. 

As he raised his pistol over the incapacitated psychic, he felt rough hands grab him from behind, and throw him to the floor. He realized he was in a pretty bad spot when the Breaker then mounted him, and slammed the end of a pistol into his temple. Head spinning, Ramsay raised his hands in defense, only to take another blow to the wrists that knocked his defenses down. Perhaps because he thought he had won already, the Breaker stood up and began hauling Ramsay's body towards the flaming wreck of a car. Perhaps thanks to the mystery pill he swallowed, Ramsay was able to fight through the pain and bite the Breaker in his shin. 

"Fucker!" Shouted the man, earning Ramsay a swift kick to the chest. [color=lightseagreen][i]"Ow. Fuck. Yep, that's a broken rib."[/i][/color] He thought as he felt a sharp pain manifesting. Almost lazily, he pulled his MAC-10 from the holster, and aimed it at the Breaker who was currently preoccupied with dragging Ramsay's mostly limp body. Ramsay's aim shifted from side to side quickly, trying to figure out which of the man's three heads to aim at. Finally deciding on the center head, he fired. Bullets ripped violently into the calf of the Breaker -not quite where he was aiming, but it'd do. The Breaker himself crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the wound.  [color=lightseagreen][i]"John Fucking Kennedy, is this a Tarantino movie?"[/i][/color] Came Ramsay's internal monologue as he stared at the unnerving amount of blood that ran from the man's leg. [color=lightseagreen][i]"He really should see a doctor about that."[/i][/color] He muttered mentally, thoughts slurring.

A flare from KillRoy brought Ramsay back to the fight, shaking off the drugs just a bit. [color=lightseagreen]"Shit. One minute. That's my cue!"[/color] He said to no one in particular, looking around for the exit. Finding the hole he had entered through, he made a mad dash through the firefight, stumbling over himself more than he'd like to admit. As he ran, he spotted a familiar face standing in the open, looking like a lost little puppy dog. [color=lightseagreen]"Lana? The fuck are you doing here? You... you need to get gone, it's  a fuckin' cluster fuck out here. Listen, I'm going to go grab the 'party favor', why don't you come with so we can get you somewhere safe?"[/color] He said, eyes nervously shifting around as he spoke. 

His eyes rested on Jackie's (hopefully) unconscious body lying next to Lana, and the realization hit him like a boot to the gut -well, not really. He had just taken a boot to the gut, and that was a hell of a lot more painful. More like a punch to the face from a vegetarian, really. He saw her draw a ragged breath, and cocked his head at her limp body. Ramsay was pretty sure he had seen something on a cop show about how you're not supposed to move people if they're hurt, something about making it worse, but hey -it's just TV after all. In something of a bastardization of a fireman's carry, Ramsay picked up Jackie. He grunted under her weight and soon felt the culmination of his injuries coming back. He buckled, and just barely caught both himself and Jackie. [color=lightseagreen]"Yep, definitely broken rib."[/color] He winced, before giving Lana a sideways nod. [color=lightseagreen]"C'mon kiddo, let's get going before I pass out too."[/color] He said, offering a wheezing laugh as the two made their way back to the fuel-filled van.