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Errant ducked when the man cam barreling over them, and he got up first, throwing a hand at one of the distracted goons, and the man stiffened and then dropped like a gunshot, as all of his muscles stopped just working.  And since there was guns involved, and Errant was running a bit of shell game with Wildcat and the baddies, he turned and dove over the crate, and ending up on the other side.  "Don't stand still!  They don't have normal guns!"  His voice a terse, sharp noise.  As he glanced around the corner of the crate, and then jerking back a bit.

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Even enhanced reflexes weren't always a match for unpredictable, panicked fire.  Wildcat wasn't sure what it was that spat from the muzzle of the thug's gun, but the scorched smell that rose from his shirt after desperately twisting away from the blast wasn't comforting.

So he did what seemed to make the most sense; bounding forward, he closed the distance between himself and the wall of walking muscle, ensuring that the shooter would have just as good a chance of hitting his own heavy hitter as he would of tagging Wildcat himself.

Besides -- the guy was clearly spoiling for a fight, and he'd hate to disappoint the man.  Slipping inside the long reach, he hammered a fist into the man's short ribs and danced back again, trying to keep his opponent's bulk between himself and the gunman.  One way or another, this shouldn't take long....

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GM

The other polo clad goon unloaded, though it did nothing to him at all, his eyes wide as he staggered back.  The guy in the suit dragged himself around to the other side of the van, still gasping for breath.

Now the actual threat too Wildcat's best shot, and he moved back, and then lashed out with a leaping spinning back kick that was sloppy as it was ferocious, as the shot to the ribs seemed to have done enough of a number on the guy.  But he was still on his feet, which was a bit of a testament.

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Masked Psycho, aka Errant, moved then, coming from behind the crate, and he looked up at the Polo goon.  "Hey!"  Which got the attention of the man, and then Errant didn't even bother to hide what was happening.  Both he and the goon inhaled sharply in unison before the hammer blow hit, and the polo guy dropped his gun and grabbed at his head and crumpled to the ground like he had been shot.  Though there was no noise at all to this, apart from a strangled sound of pain from the guy.

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Both gunmen down was a good thing, considering their non-standard weaponry, and the spokesgoon seemed to be pretty battered by this point, but the big dude might prove problematical.  He had taken one of Wildcat's better hits, and hardly seemed more than discomforted by it.

The young man bared his teeth.  Time to step it up to his best hit, clearly.

Putting everything he had into it, Wildcat leapt, spun, and lashed out with one booted heel at the big goon's head, a blow that would have surely rung his bell, and good.

...if he hadn't jumped a little too high, the blow wiffing by harmlessly a good three inches over the man's head.  Whoops....

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