Bullets jammed into and blew chunks out of the concrete column Emma was using as a shield. She spun around, popped two shots off, and rolled behind a car for cover.
"Damn it! Damn, damn, damn, damn it," Emma cursed. She was blinded by searing pain in her left shoulder. Five seconds of complete silence passed. She forcefully slowed her breathing and concentrated. The faster her heart pumped, the faster she would bleed out.
Something small clattered on the ground, resonating throughout the parking garage. She sprung up, no one there. Emma spun around and was sent flying by a punch to the face. The back of her head hit a side mirror hard. The man was already bounding for the pistol that was dropped on the floor.
Emma took this chance to tackle the man to the ground. An elbow smacked her in the nose. Once, twice, three times, and she loosened her grip enough to let the man escape. Tasting blood in her mouth, she sprinted for the man. The man reached for the gun and turned around but only squeezed off one off-target round before the pistol was kicked out of his hands. He turned to chase after it but Emma grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged, causing the man to lose his balance, falling on the back of his head.
Emma took the chance to race after her own gun. Scooping it up, she turned around and aimed. The man was already up and sprinting towards her. Emma's vision was already getting blurry and her limbs were getting heavier. It was now or never!
She squeezed off three shots, one followed by two quick consecutive shots. She collapsed onto her knees in pure exhaustion.
She knelt there panting, her heart refusing to stop racing. The man was still standing but, as two crimson flowers blossomed on his chest, it was apparent he was already dead before he hit the ground. Time stood still as the man fell and made a thud as he hit the floor. However, the thud was accompanied by a second thud from across the garage. What was that? Confused, Emma dragged herself off the ground. She staggered over to a teenage girl laying in a pool of her own blood. She was standing over her latest victim, killed by a ricochet bullet.
Emma stared down at the girl. She frowned, truthfully it was a real shame. The girl looked young, around fifteen or so. Though the girl had no business being in the parking garage, especially at that time of night. The girl brought it upon herself. It wasn't her fault the girl had been standing there like an idiot during a shootout.
"Not my kid, not my problem," She coldly muttered as she turned and walked away.