[Innately terrifying as it is, Rhys doesn't skip a beat in doubling back over shrapnel to get a clear line of sight. His now lone wolf of a turret isn't capable of hitting the right angle from where it's mounted, and the shotgun--
Tucked under his arm as he slinks low behind crates, flicks in a few more commands that drop a few bay doors that act as something of an initial distraction. Combined with the conflict itself he's got a clear path to rush, meaning he does rush: knuckles white and locked down on the grip in his hands. The first bandit he catches with a solid shot to the spine. Bloody, ungraceful in execution though not efficiency. It's just the kick that knocks Rhys back a few much-needed steps gripping a smoking, empty chamber just as the other bandit turns around.
But the objective's right there. And fine, maybe he can't slam himself down to land a shot with the RPG that'll bring this encounter to one badass finale, but he can free it up for Zer0 instead, stall for time or a reload or pick off the bandit the only dignified, heroic way he knows how:
no subject
Tucked under his arm as he slinks low behind crates, flicks in a few more commands that drop a few bay doors that act as something of an initial distraction. Combined with the conflict itself he's got a clear path to rush, meaning he does rush: knuckles white and locked down on the grip in his hands. The first bandit he catches with a solid shot to the spine. Bloody, ungraceful in execution though not efficiency. It's just the kick that knocks Rhys back a few much-needed steps gripping a smoking, empty chamber just as the other bandit turns around.
But the objective's right there. And fine, maybe he can't slam himself down to land a shot with the RPG that'll bring this encounter to one badass finale, but he can free it up for Zer0 instead, stall for time or a reload or pick off the bandit the only dignified, heroic way he knows how:
He turns and runs. Screaming.]