There was a disbelieving grunt from somewhere high in a pile of industrial scrap on the edge of the area, soft but enough for a SOLDIER's enhanced senses.
"Yer surrounded, kid," a thickly Corel region accented voice shouted from another location high up, some distance behind Alex. The tone was blunt, authoritative, professional. "Shoot an' ya die. Run an' ya die. Drop y'weapons, hands on y'head, an' mebbe we don' start shootin' bits offa you. ...Dammit Jonson y'swore ta me y'was sober, how'd y'miss a shot li..."
The man on his knees in front of Alex gave a short, unhinged laugh.
"Oh, you are fucked now. He sent the mercs. Those guys take down monsters for a living!" He raised his voice. "What are you guys playing at, just shoot this psycho!"