The bullet narrowly missed Napoleon, and instead found it's mark in the man hidden in the shadows. He dropped forward to the bar, collapsing in a heap behind it. Dead.
Solo rolled, getting off a shot at the retreating figure pushing through the levered bat-wing saloon doors. He rose quickly, offering a hand to his partner, they split up, heading after their quarry through the door and a side window.
A rising full moon cast long shadows in the street as Solo stopped, getting his bearings. His view was filled with grey and black images, and nothing was moving at all.
