As the bullets go flying by his head... And his knee, Aman'Nevar looks around, puzzled.
"Ah, but when you are dealing with a random brawl, you never know who might try to kill you.." he said, as his gaping wound spewed acidic blood over the floor, which glowed a pale blue.
"Fortunately for the both of us, I am immortal. If I were to die, this entire area would be far more mangled with chaotic energy than a broken microwave."
He pulls the bullet out of his knee, and twists it into the form of a turret. Then, as he dips it in his blood, it splits into four of them, and he places each back where the others were.