The Bounty hunter delivering the goods.

A hail of lead swarmed around as he dove for the opening. The loud reports of his pistol hammered off of the walls, sending a ringing through his ears.
“Tifa for the love of god!” he whipped round the door frame, and placed his left leg on the door, slamming it shut. Smoke filled the air and the stink of ozone burned his nostrils. The distinct hiss of her flamer crept through the keyhole as she approached.
“Come here Cowboy! You know you want it,” she laughed manically.
Taylor appraised his surroundings and found himself in the engine room. Great, he thought, a perfect place for a fire fight. Tapping his magazine against the wall, he realized he was empty, no lead, and no win.
“Shit.” he growled. Idly twisting the vial between his fingers, he grinned. “Tifa, you do realize that I could break this at anytime yes?” The footsteps outside the door stopped.
“Well then,” she snorted, “I would have no use for your pathetic hide,” the flamer’s hiss increased. Wide eyed, Taylor bounded away from the door just as it blew off its hinges in the wailing heat and flame. Rolling, he threw his pistol into the fire and slid under the rotary belt system. The familiar whine of an overcharged battery cell filled his ears, shortly followed by the flash bang of the explosion. Tifa cried out and dropped her flamethrower. That was his opening; he kicked out, taking away her legs, and crashing her to the floor. Their eyes met as he rose up to his feet and as she dropped past his vision. Grinning, he put his foot on her neck while she writhed in agony. She was missing a shoulder, strings of blood sprayed up the wall, and her arm hung off by the skin. Crouching down, he pushed her hair back out of her face, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck,” he hissed.
“C...Cause I’m prettier than you fuck head,” she panted, “and I’m worth 2 million, remember?” She struggled against his neck. “Let me up, I’m bleeding to death here.” Taylor placed his hand into the gore where her shoulder should have been. Tifa screamed and passed out.

Flo looked up as Taylor waltzed into the office. The room was decorated with a red theme, thick drapes hung over the window, and his feet sunk into the scarlet carpet. A refreshing breeze fluttered through the open window, and cooled his brow. The chattering of the police radio was quiet in the background, but no less irritating. The evening light shone across the immaculate mahogany desk, and over the variety of weapons in the cabinet. An eyebrow raised over Flo’s eye as Taylor dragged an unconscious Tifa in by the hair.