It was only a couple of seconds later that the piercing sound of a bullet, shattering the thin glass of the window, registered in Maxwell's ears. By that time, Syn had already fallen to the floor. With a loud thud, the head of the four-year old girl fell first.
Since he was late in cushioning the impact for her daughter, Maxwell moved on to inspect the girl's body. It was the dead of winter, so Syn's clothes were a bit thick. There wasn't much to see on the surface. Because of that, he thought that his hope of seeing no injuries on her would come to being. However, no deity took the opportunity to hear his prayers out. Right above the middle of her ribcage, a dark liquid began to pour out from a small hole.
"What… what is--" Maxwell muttered, breathless in his speech.