The muzzle flash was what caught his attention, then the distinct snap of bullets as they cracked by through the air and their impacts against the environment. This was the stimulus for action people were regularly not capable of, at least not modded or tooled out somehow, and the deceptiveness of a hunter not appearing outwardly machined-up had some perks. Theron broke into a dead sprint, boots pounding the concrete and easily pushing the movement his body could take on a sprint, either way it wasn't human in the slightest and that made for a bit more advantage than the shooter probably hoped for; trying to lead a running target took practice, trying to lead a target that suddenly exploded with an enormous dash resulted in hasty firing. So it came, another burst of lead filling the air and taking off bits of the old roadway and concrete barriers. By then the target dropped prone, hand and knees catching him as he sprawled out and made himself almost razor thin, maybe a tenth of his previous profile. The hunter slid a bit from the sudden transfer of momentum, the impact of throwing himself down to stop the shooter's aim was worth it all however, especially as he leveled the hand-cannon back in the direction of the muzzle flash. Thinking at blinding speeds, the height of an adrenaline rush and being boosted by a metabolism not meant for the body, all of him was going faster than he could register; everything was just reactionary now. All his eyes could look for was the red sight as it fell roughly on where the shots were coming from and an opposing, unusual shape to the environment. A harsh breath and a few more shots cracked the slide back, gas venting from the louvers that flanked the barrel. There was no time to hesitate there or admire any hits or curse any misses, only roll several times over to the right. It was a ploy to keep the aim off him and allow further jacking-up of the ganger's shots; mobility and speed were his strengths in between making himself small. The positive to this was at least this weapon wasn't automatic like the last, the volume of fire was livable, but damned if it did not keep slowing him down, especially after he already had enough problems with a walking tank. Speaking of said killer cyborg, the dull thud of an explosion, a grenade, rattled the narrow alleyways down below; probably one of an entire handful and the sole thing the boosters might be carrying to really even hurt the solo fighting off their little squad. Regardless, it put a lull into the gunfight down there as it moved and kicked up a storm of dust as its fragments ricocheted and rabbited wildly against the bricks, making a hazy, nasty gun battle on the lower level more chaotic. The pause suggested a few things, one being Golemeth was dead - a laughable possibility, but not implausible - or that the fight was just transitioning. Almost assuredly the latter, as either the man, machine, whatever he really was, found some place to set himself up that they couldn't shoot him and had to bombard him with things in the hopes of even nicking his chrome and ironed up muscles without some bigger guns or they had lost him and he was still moving, throwing out the boomers in the hope they didn't get surprised. Theron hadn't the opportunity or the moment to decide which, instead firing a few more shots with a bit of added aim, his arms stretched out before him and the gun doing the rest of the work, pouring it on against the ambusher. His nerves burned like fire in the heat of the moment, every impulse and input shooting back and forth, but the real question would be when he moved again if the shooting would come back from the ramp or if a round downed or disabled them. No time to wait and find out, only move again, so he hopped to standing with alarming speed and zigged rather than zagged. Theron wasn't a soldier, but corporate killers weren't hopeless or naive; it didn't take some foreign literal trade war to teach you to go where they don't expect you, especially when they beat it into you each time you got it wrong. After all you were their investment and their property, but those were trainers and stun rounds, these were the "hopped-up psychopaths" and "put bloody holes into you where crash out" rounds. Now if only he could take down the one, Theron could deal with the other and get back to hunting the hulked out freak. [@Terminal]