In hindsight, trusting a known worshipper of Chaos to say anything useful was hardly a good idea. Even so, Darran had it in mind to go back up to the Spire and take apart the Countess del Arheidt quite literally for putting him in this situation, intentionally or not. That was, if he so much as survived this abrupt attack, let alone escaped the clutches of the Imperial aggressors who had chosen practically the hour he'd entered this bar to run a hit on it.

Good thing, then, that Darran was prepared in a way he might not have been if he was a surgeon alone. His job did rather expect him, after all, to maintain intense precision that could be immensely enhanced by internal modifications, but overclocked thought processes further helped him to consider a given situation as it arrived, if for some reason he was forced to handle a sudden emergency; likewise, if his ability to react to said situations was reduced, it could mean the difference between life and death for a patient; and customisable overlays within the cameras of some of his mechadendrites were simply icing on top of the cake, intended as reminders to render even more precisely his already-significant knowledge of anatomy. In this case, they were easily modified with a series of quick thoughts to render the expected path of any given projectile- the arc of projectiles, more likely- fired from the gun of the Adeptus Arbite who now declared everybody within a filthy criminal, along with any others who might enter.

...ironic, wasn't it, that his high treason might be discovered as a result of being mistaken for a petty crook? Darran might have laughed, if he had any ability to derive humour from situations.

Instead, he almost immediately flipped up the table he was at, but remained behind it for no more than a half-second before bolting toward the next table, flipping that one up without so much as pausing to stop behind it as he continued to charge toward the back room. They were made of wood, and not particularly well-made at that. They wouldn't stop a knife from going all the way through, let alone shotgun pellets. Sure enough, the first mass of shot missed him by centimeters according to the overlay, whilst the second was made as the Arbite fell for Darran's ploy, shredding the table yet failing to come close to Darran himself. By the time the third could be lined up against him, he was already through the doorway, and into a moment of relative safety for the time being amongst the various crates of alcohol and whatnot. Naturally, it would be temporary at best, but if he could find somebody to ally with before then... not that he trusted anybody down here to remain allies beyond this immediate convenience, but an ally of convenience was an ally nonetheless, so long as he deserted them before they could turn on him.