The Death Merchant strode boldly down the center of Constitution Avenue, each hand filled with a brand new Auto Mag, the big .44 AMP caliber autoloaders sizzled as snowflakes hit the hot stainless steel.
He unhurriedly spun and knelt to a single knee as one of Emprada's men located him and began lining up sights on his chest. The Death Merchant grinned inwardly as he considered that he now lived a parody of his own life, a stream of 9mm slugs chewing into the pavement near his side.
“Avvra Kadavah, dummy!”
Drivers screamed and dived to floorboards as the firefight raged within view of the White House. The ear mic crackled and the Death Merchant listened as Lou King and Les Cole traded barbs from other parts of the city...