The SWAT members were shooting, the gangsters were shooting—all of them—the tear gas was decreasing an already poor visibility in the warehouse, and those who still had their hearing after the flashbangs couldn't hear anything because of the gunshot cacophony.
The bright flashlights on the barrels of SWAT team rifles made the place look like a nightclub party for gun addicts.
When so many little events happen around all at once, the human brain can't comprehend them all. It can either grasp and process one thing at a time and let the rest fly past, or give up and shut down completely.
Tristan saw a few people like that—huddled on the floor or behind cover, completely disoriented by the flashbangs and the fighting.
'This is shit. This is a completely pointless fight. Fuck, why does this warehouse has only one exit? The cops have us cornered here!'
Tristan grit his teeth and looked out of his cover and through the haze of tear gas.
