Rook would have grinned at the man if he wasn’t wearing a mask, in fact, he still did anyway. The man was going to get his wish, in a sense, because by-passers were starting to give the duo a wide berth, and many more were stopping to watch the show. They seemed visibly nervous, as was Quebra though he concealed it better, about the weapon Rook had hoisted onto his shoulder.

“What’s the problem, you never seen beanbag rounds before?” He ribbed the wrestler for his remarks, but his call was as much to inform the people around them that a lethal gunfight wasn’t about to ensue. He wanted them to watch, it was good for business. “Alright everyone, you better be watchin’ and listenin’, my name’s Rook, I represent the Kingdom Merc Group, tell your mates about us!” 

And without further ado, he flipped the shotty off his shoulder and fired, as quick as that, a one two motion that caused one of the barrels of his weapon to fire and expunge a non-lethal projectile at wicked speed towards the wrestler’s centre of mass. It wasn’t so fast as a bullet, not even close really, but at around three hundred feet per second the impact could break a rib or put a fully-grown man on his ass. Not to mention it’d cover the scant thirty feet between them in a tenth of a second, not bad at all. The only chance the wrestler had was recognising the round was coming before Rook pulled the trigger. 

Then, Rook’s demeanour shifted significantly. Gone was the almost casual stance, replaced with a dangerous focus. His left leg led as he presented the riot shield forward, holding the shotty to the right of the obstruction and leaving only the very top of his head and the bottom of his legs exposed other than that. That was about all he had to do, for now.