The flash-bomb would only blind her for a second. Probably wearing a shielded visor. I jumped out and closed the distance between us with two quick steps, leaped and brought both fists down on the back of her neck.

She grunted and twisted away, tried to bring the shottie up and around, but I slapped the stock with the flat of my hand, sent the shot wide. Shattered marble struck my cheek.

“Ain’t got time, bitch!” I cried and jumped forward, grabbing a double handful of her armored jacket and pivoting my weight, using my momentum to throw her down the hallway. She grunted, but recovered quickly.

Another shotgun blast whizzed by my ear and chewed up the wooden door-frame as I dashed into the stairwell and tossed my last grenade over my shoulder.

Two knockers lay in a bloody sprawl at the bottom of the first flight of stairs. One held a snub-nosed sub-machine gun, and I scooped it up.

Hurting, Louise. You there? Need backup!

Through the adrenaline and endorphins, my injuries were starting to slow me down.