The first bullet strikes, creasing a bright red line through dark feathers and pale scales but the second fails to hit its target; things that big shouldn't be capable of moving that fast, or changing direction as nimbly as he does. It's a shameful embarrassment that he'd gotten hit at all, Sephiroth had been fast enough to dodge gunfire for well over a decade at this point, and knowing that is salt in the wound that stings as much as the hole in his hide does.

It doesn't stop him from crashing to the ground directly where Vincent had been, a strange rattling sound following the impact as he spins and rears back to aim a sharp-clawed swat at the ex-Turk with intention to slap him right into the vehicles they'd just cleared.

It's not meant to be any kind of a deathblow, these kinds of things weren't about killing a rival.