He was keenly aware of the firearm's discharge, and he was not used to having it at his back. It was the weapon of choice of the Enforcers, and they could and often would use such weapons on his people openly. Cruelty was a part of the suppression, a part he had fought against as much as he could for years.

So even with concentrating on the hand-to-hand combat and doing well for himself, he twitched with each sound of the firearm. Yet, he didn't change his course either, logically reminding himself that it was Accelerator.

The fight was often after some minutes, the last rioter retreating with a well-placed bullet as a warning. He bent down to collect weapons from the bodies, pulling them away and piling them more towards their defensible location. The aches and pains of combat took that moment to make themselves known to him as the adrenaline ebbed away.

Unfortunately, there were no firearms in the mix with this lot. Knives, clubs, hammers and even shivs were among the collected weapons. He looked at Accelerator as he dropped the last of the obvious weaponry in the pile. He wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand; it hadn't been his.

"Not your first rodeo, hmm? Thanks for not shooting me."