You hunch down and run toward the garage to join the Anarchs and regroup, the air beside your ears humming with passing bullets. A stinging pain drills through your shoulder followed almost immediately by a second shot tearing away a small chunk of your neck. Hunger grows inside you as your body mends the wounds. You duck in behind the garage just before a third shot takes your head off.
Hauberk cackles. "Not so good at dodging bullets, eh Cammie? Almost gotcha head popped like a zit."
Sevinc grimaces and smacks the Gangrel upside the head. "Shut up and flank them, idiot. Planning on just sitting there until we're surrounded?"
"On it," the Feral says and takes off on all fours around the other side of the garage.
"Who the hell are these guys?" Sevinc asks as a large hunk of concrete tears free from the garage wall. The snipers have you pinned down tight. Lights flicker on in nearby houses and mortals yell out into the night. Small children wail, rudely awoken by the thunderous gunfire.
Ward risks a glance back across the lot. Two black-clad mortals have advanced, each carrying long knives and smaller ordnance while (you presume) snipers cover their approach. "Not Qui's people," the Brujah grunts. "The Sheriff's a prick, but he wouldn't risk a god damned firefight in a residential area. Fuck's sake, that's why we met here! If it's the ERT, we're completely screwed. All our biggest guns are back home." He looks to you. "Hauberk's gonna flush 'em out. I'll draw their fire while Sevinc and her mutts do what they do best. Prove you can carry your weight, Agad the Imperishable. No more time for thinking. Time to act."
Your window to run is long gone. If you're going to survive, you'll have to fight!