The gun in Noah's hand went off before Noah even said a word.
One hard crack in the dark corridor, muzzle flash bouncing across the concrete walls like lightning. The round hit Zubair center of mass, hard enough to throw the weight of him back a half step.
But it didn't matter.
He straightened before the echo faded. The gaping hole in his chest closed in seconds, the skin pulling tight as if the bullet had never been there. No pain. No injury. The blood on his shirt the only indication that he had even been shot in the first place.
Zubair looked down once, then up at Noah.
He didn't say a word.
The man in front of him had wide eyes, too wide, the gun trembling in his grip like he expected physics and death to stay on his side.
Zubair started forward.
Noah fired again.
