"You shot first, pendejo, don't blame it on me," he growled - though obviously had Jack not taken the first shot, he would have done so within a fraction of a second afterward.

This exact scenario, unfortunately, was probably the only one in which he felt he didn't have an obvious upper hand. Usually he had the element of surprise and the advantage of distance, and a bird who knew just what to do couldn't hurt. Instead he was outnumbered in close quarters, and more concerned for Mijo's health than he was used to having to be. A couple hip-shots from the rifle got rid of the fake doubles quickly, but his shield had sustained a few direct hits, and when one bullet actually managed to graze his side, he had to take cover again and begin that painful wait for the recharge delay. Jack could just create more doubles, though. He wasn't sure how that aspect of the man's shield worked - what was the cooldown? Was there a limit to how often or how many? Without any ability to predict it, he was torn between his usual cautious fighting style and one that might end things quicker, even if he took a shot or two in the process. As long as Jack was dead by the end and he wasn't, he didn't really care how many bullets he had to take.

But for now he forced himself to wait a few seconds. He'd already waited weeks, after all.