He can make a clean kill headshot in less than a second and a half, two rounds for kill insurance, and probably protect the atmospheric integrity of the airgate. At a simple, subconscious neural urge, boot-sole electromagnets charge to clamp onto the deck plates. The airgate skin-sleeve is self-repairing, and will survive las-fire damage, but a bolter shot will shred it open, so Luciel also braces for the explosive decompression of a ricochet or a miss-hit. Maximus plate, frontally augmented, might stop a mass-reactive shell, so Luciel will fire two and aim for the visor slits. The range is six metres, the target unobstructed. He can draw, aim and fire in less than a second. Luciel wears his boltgun, an oiled black pit bull of a weapon, in his thigh holster. Adrenaline spikes to heighten an already formidable reaction time. Transhuman responses are already there, unbidden. For a nanosecond, the figure registers to Luciel as an unknown, a threat. "The Word Bearer is almost unrecognisable. Relevant to the combat and reaction speed of characters.
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