The leader's breathing grew heavier at Oliver's words, and he aimed his gun at Oliver's chest.
"Let's see whether your arrow's faster than my gun."
His finger rested on the trigger, but before he could fire, a short arrow had already pierced his gun hand.
The pistol slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor.
Then the man clutched his hand and let out a long, agonized scream.
Oliver lowered his wrist. He still wore an ingenious wrist-mounted launcher, each of its arrows a specially made tranquilizer needle that could knock someone out in seconds.
The others watched their leader go limp and crash heavily to the floor.
Dick tilted his head and offered some advice. "Why don't you just leave?"
They had already taken the money, so they had no choice but to steel themselves. "Let's get them together!"
Seven or eight men lunged at Dick and Oliver at once.
But the moment they charged, Dick and Oliver had already moved-
Dick leaped up, using a wooden crate and a truss to reach the edge of a roof beam and catch it with one hand;
Oliver sidestepped the first wooden club swinging straight at him, then vaulted onto a stack of prop boxes.
Dick looked down at the chaotic crowd below and whistled. "Would you rather let me knock you out, or put up a fight and let me knock you out?"
Before anyone below could answer, Dick had already let go and dropped, knocking one man out with his knee as he landed, striking another with a backhand elbow, then catching two more with an airborne kick...
The thuds and cracks inside the tin shed lasted about a minute before everything went quiet.
Thugs lay sprawled across the floor, some curled up clutching their stomachs, others flat