John ducked his head low.
He adjusted his direction to create distance, dodging the crossfire, and felt something whiz right over his head.
The bridge's railing had a new gash carved into it.
John drew his revolver to shoot, but he couldn't find a suitable angle.
Sword strikes were coming simultaneously from both sides.
A moment of inattention, and he'd lose an arm or a leg.
Clenching his teeth, John smashed the butt of his gun into one assailant's helmet, catching a glimpse of an Eastern person's face, the curses they roared from within echoing out clearly.
[Kuso… F*ck (Japanese)]
Before John could strike again, someone beside him slashed his arm.
He moved in close, blocking a blade with his Vodka revolver, then swung around to fire!
BAM!
A bullet lodged in the assassin's chest.
The vehicle flipped uncontrollably, crashing into a wreck.
