( mister body-shield takes two bullets from number two, before kestrel remembers he's not here to kill anyone and uses his grip on the guy's wrist (his gun hand, thanks) to flip him straight over kestrel's shoulder and onto the slowly flooding ground for a good rest. kestrel's back takes another few. the stark-suit manages to take the worst of the impact and redistribute it so kestrel doesn't have bullet holes littering his gear, and by the time he's got himself back upright, rook's got his guy down on the ground, rolling around.

a few others are heading their way - kestrel can hear muffled yelling of what the hell's going on from the other side of the building, and neither of them quite has the time for that. usually, he'd leave rook to handle his goon, he's fine down there, getting crushed isn't going to take him out. but given their lack of time - well.

he saunters his way over to where they're both laying, rook with his bo across the guy's throat, the guy thrashing while trying to get the grip off of his neck. his gun raises, aimed at number two's head for a moment before it slowly trails down the length of his body, barrel pointed straight at his groin. )

Y'know, you really should pick on someone a little closer to your size. 'cause layin' on top of my friend down there--well, he's only got legs that reach this low, which means I've got a real clear shot. It's him or me, pal. Pick your poison - or don't, an' I'll just pick for you.