She's not as fast as a Strider, obviously, but Vriska's reflexes are pretty quick. Dodging torrents of gunfire has become second nature over the last few sweeps, so avoiding one measly shot should be wiggler's play.

Except it's not. There's a wave of pain and a spurt of blood as the shot punches a hole through her upper arm (always the left, ALWAYS), and all Vriska can do is stare like a slack-jawed moron. That's —

"Dave! DAVE!"

After a second's worth of indecision, she ducks behind a partially-smashed terminal to catch her breath. This isn't fair.