A Drabble-and-a-half! I just couldn't prune it down anymore!
Darn that Murdoc and his diabolic dialogue!
Reflexes
Brilliant light assaulted his eyes. Mac's reflexes took over; arm raised to shield his eyes, he winced away from the direction of the strobe—just as panel of wood beside his face exploded! His head had been there half a second ago!
Splinters of wood bit into his arm and shoulder as he dropped to the floor, rolling and then scrambling to get behind the uncertain protection of a stack of wooden crates. No more bullets followed, however.
Instead, a mocking voice lilted at him from out of the darkness.
"Nice reflexes, MacGyver! I nearly got you that time! Run if you must… but I will get my picture. It makes me smile to imagine Peter Thornton opening the letter containing the photograph of the moment of your death—it will be the high point of my career.
"Run, MacGyver… you've got a few seconds while I reload the camera…"