The dart sails from Hush's gun with a whimper, scarcely heard over the thunder of gunfire. The surgeon's hands are steady as he pulls the trigger, sinking deep into Chill's bicep, it's payload entering the man's bloodstream. His face lolls, and he seems almost to drop to the floor, but shaking his head, albeit woozily, he lurches upright. Or at least, vaguely upright.
"****ing drugs. Who the **** dosed me?"