[u][b][color=ed1c24]James Gregor Castner[/color][/b][/u]

The little creature was fast enough to dodge his shot, but the same couldn’t be said for Cult leader. A headshot from Steve ended her in a sickening way. He could hear her skull and headdress crunch… and something else. Her broken headdress tumbled off dramatically to reveal an older ethnic woman, with bits of plastic and wires poking out from the bloody hole.

[i] A Synth? Why? [/i]

"NO!" Corrine shrieked, startling him. It must have been a former friend of hers who joined the Cult. She stood straight up in shock.

"THIS IS THE UNITED STATES MILITARY, SURRENDER NOW OR BE FIRED UPON."

"MURDERERS!", shouted back a cultist.

And then chaos erupted. The cultists started firing on them with makeshift assault rifles, while one one sprinted towards Corrine with a meathook. Before he could fire back, pain split through his thigh. Training kept him from faltering. He grunted and raised his rifle, taking careful aim at the center of mass of one of the gun toting cultists, and sent two blasts in his direction. He dropped to a prone position to reduce his size.

Corrine suddenly stumbled directly into the range of fire, sobbing incoherently over the dead synth.

“CORRINE GET DOWN! FLATTEN YOURSELF!”, he shouted a little panickedly. He fired a volley of rushed shots around the enemies, hopefully suppressing them from firing at Corrine. He thought he heard Steve getting attacked, but he was too busy trying to cover Corrine.