Dirk's punches were nothing to scoff at in the most generous of terms, but when he was armored and encased in his expensive laminate steel, they were like hammer blows. The first punch broke through the brawling man's visor, the next bloodied his nose, and the third knocked him out or potentially killed him. Dirk hit him once more for good measure, all the while keeping a hold on the third man that Jocasta was now shooting at. The blue projectiles bounced harmlessly off Dirk's form, but the man he held wasn't so lucky. Multiple burns covered his body, and Dirk snapped his neck so he stopped screaming. 

"Clear," Jocasta began to say as her drone fluttered out, but footsteps past the open door told otherwise. Dirk, still prone, looked up to see six men turn the corner. Four held slug thrower assault rifles, one held another Mark47 Ripper, and the sixth had a guass gun which worried Dirk the most. Depending on the projectile, it could punch through his armor, not merely harm its integrity and grind it down. He didn't get up, but rolled, grabbing the gun of the man who's neck he had snapped, apparently a DP-18 triple barrel shotgun. He pumped it and fired center mass of the crowd even as they raised their guns. The shards from the shot hit two of them, blinding one of them and felling the guass-user. Another pump and he killed a third man and hit the one that grabbed at his eyes, taking them both out. 

Four bullets punched into him, and one even pierced his armor. He grunted as he felt the missile go through one of the lesser plates, and inside his armor he felt a cold wetness. He didn't roll away or relent, as his back would be exposed. He merely pumped the weapon again and fired three more times until the gun was empty, sending the remaining three scattering behind walls and a thick, overturned desk. He threw the gun and pulled himself back, leaning against the wall and checking his wound as the old man fired into the room, his capacitor laser cutting the desk in half but missing the merc behind it, though he likely had a terrible fright. 

He reached for his belt, uncorking a utility compartment and taking out a syringe of blue liquid, which Jocasta would likely recognize as a medi-fix. It was a limited, temporary first aid gel with small nano-machines, one of the only items in the universe that could still utilize the technology, that found compromised damages to the body and sealed them up before the organic machines died from natural bacteria a few hours later. Good to help keep combat going or to keep someone stable before they made it to a real medical facility. 

He could slowly feel the wound stitching up, and he pulled himself to his feet and unholstered his heavy blasters as shots were returned, ricocheting as brass shells cluttered on the ground. 

"Cover me," Dirk said before either of them could argue, and he stepped out into the doorway after the latest wave of fire, his trained eyes and thermal sensors showing which merc was closest and which left themselves the most exposed. Fully powered, he fired both of his guns into the overturned desk thrice, the second lashots blowing a hole in it and the last shots hitting the merc, dropping him. Both men on opposite sides of the walls apparently coordinated through hand motions or sensors, and they both sprang out to fire at Dirk. They each got a shot off, and only one hit Dirk (and harmlessly bounced off his breastplate) before Dirk pulled his guns apart and shot both men down, simultaneously. One had his groin punctured and the other's head snapped back from a forehead hit, and they fell dead to the floor. 

Dirk took a long breath.

"Clear."