Tristan weaved between cars expertly, ignoring the honks and shouts that followed him. The motorbike he was sitting at wasn't the fastest model, but it was still more nimble than the car No Hope hitched.
She was still sitting on the trunk roof while the driver did his best to get away. The assassin was holding onto the car with one hand, and with the other was pointing a pistol in Tristan's direction.
A bullet whizzed past him in slow motion. In the slowed time given him by his talent, Tristan tilted his body and the motorbike, avoiding it by a few centimeters.
The bullet hit the metal of a car behind him. No Hope aimed and shot again, and again, but each time Tristan was just slightly faster.
Considering her unstable position, the movement of both vehicles, and all the obstacles in the way, it was already incredible that she could shoot precisely at all. But even she had problems hitting Tristan.
