There was a sudden heavy clopping sound from the nearby aisle, the sound of boots on linoleum. The robber turned back around raising up his shotgun, time seemed to be coming to a grinding halt. Mira burst forth into Omar’s view, gun holstered and instead she wielded her baton in her right hand. She took a sharp forward stride bringing the baton up and then beginning a downward arc. There was a loud [i]crack[/i] and the masked gunman cried out in pain as his shotgun fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. Mira had struck him across the left forearm just as he had brought his gun up level with her.

The man grabbed at his arm in shocked agony which gave Mira the chance to bring him down, jabbing him hard in the stomach and dropping him to his knees. From there she got behind him and drove him down onto the hard floor with her left knee, right next to the hostage he had been threatening. Mira slipped her baton away, keeping the downed gunman pinned as she reached for her handcuffs.

[i]Stupid.[/i] Mira though to herself admittedly, [i]Very stupid.[/i] Had the gunman been just a second or two faster Mira would have taken a chest full of shot and be sprawled out dead on the floor. She shook her head as she tussled for the man’s arms, ignoring his groans of pain and explicit protests. “My arm, you pig bitch, I think you broke my… fucking arm!” His voice was muffled from his face being pressed into the linoleum but his protests were audible enough. The hostage was scrambling away as he slowly stood, wobbly and big-eyed at what had just occurred.

“Nice little distraction, Omar.” Mira said as the handcuffs clicked together. The Corporal hooked her hands under the robbers’ shoulders and with a loud grunt began to roughly haul him to his feet. “You broke my arm, dammit! Take these off me!” Mira got the man stood up, he was maybe an inch or two taller than her. “Your arm isn’t broken.” Mira snapped.

“How do you know?” 

“We’ll check it then when we get you back to the station.” Mira asserted. “Omar grab his gun.”