[ WP ] Write an epic battle

*Inhale……. * 
 *………exhale…* 
 *Inhale…. * 
 *…..exhale…* 
 The wound was fortunately non-lethal. He had more time. 
 *Inhale…..* 
 *…..exhale…..* 
 He could hear voices on the other side. Angry shouting. 
 The door wouldn ’ t keep them out for long. His firewall would last only a few dozen seconds against their hackers. 
 A line of thought threatened to disrupt his meditation, his breaths turning jagged. They should be nearly out by now. They had enough air in the rebreathers to get through the cooling tunnel. 
 *Inhale…..* 
 *Tssssssssssssss* 
 The pneumatic sound of the door sliding open jerked him out of his trance. The split second before he reacted, his brain noted the plethora of thin red aiming lasers, wildly changing direction, registering their target. 
 They never got a chance. 
 He twisted out of his stance, body nearly parallel to the ground. Acting on instinct, he rammed the blade extended from his forearm into the source of the closest aiming laser. 
 He didn ’ t wait, leaving the blade embedded in flesh, he rolled, feeling the sudden confusion and panic around him. He had brought this fight to melee range. 
 Years of experience in the field renders you open to new stimuli. You subconsciously count the number of bullets fired, waiting for their clip to dry out. Subconsciously count the footsteps that don ’ t belong to you. Count the multitude of lasers aimed at you. 
 The next man panicked and tried using his firearm. He brought up his right forearm, pushing the gun away from him and unsheathed a short blade with his left. The gun misfired, the men scrambling away from the stray shots. He didn ’ t waste the milliseconds, rushing forward, bearing the blade. He whipped it upwards, lightly touching one of the men on the side of his neck, carrying on the momentum and letting the blade fly, embedding itself into another. He arched backwards, bullets flying over him, recovering his first blade, pulling the corpse towards him for cover. The dead mercenary was still holding his weapon. He brought up the corpses arm, and squeezed the trigger, emptying a barrage of lead into the cluster of men. Throwing the body forward, he lunged, whirling, his blade extended. 
 There were five when they came. Three now remain. Two remain armed. 
 He twisted, lunged. The air around him grew thick with red mist. 
 Two remained. 
 He registered the gun pointing at him and threw his blade, the gargling sound rewarding his aim. 
 One remaining. 
 He strafed to the right, dodging the bullets then rolled and slammed his palm into the mercenary ’ s face. His nose broke, gun range glasses splattered with blood. 
 He slammed his palm again. Then again. 
 The man slumped to the ground, fragments on bone embedded in his brain. 
 The entire encounter lasted eleven seconds. 
 The man slowly stumbled to the door, his wound reopened. They should be out by now. They would be safe. The extraction team was well experienced. 
 He stumbled to the door, re-locking it. Waiting for the next encounter. 
 He settled into a meditative stance and closed his eyes. 
 *Inhale…..* 
 *……exhale…. * 

