Round 3
Hal's bullet dents a fender. The carnie's jalopy is 20' away, slowly turning. It's windshield shattered, dust from the dirt road clouding view.
Sipowicz, kneeling in pain, brings up his gun to fire his last bullets. The first is a deadshot, hitting the driver in the forehead. He snaps back then slumps over the wheel. The car jerks, sputters and stops.
The passenger - an elaborately tattooed man - staggers out. He's taken a bullet to the shoulder.
Sipowicz's second shot hits the carnie in the stomach. He spits up blood and collapses dead.
"Fuck, the next time we don't barge in like a bull," Sipowicz groans, lying down on the ground holding his hip.