Charlotte
The moment the pirate sunk into the floor, Charlotte moved, starting to leap back. Sure, it might be enough to get out of range, it might not, but Charlotte wasn't about to leave that up to chance.
In that instant the woman spent in the floor, however, was where the magic happened. Her left arm and one of her guns seemed to blur into nothingness for the barest of instants before the gun was already leveled. To see the gunslinger's draw in that instant, one's perception of time would be slowed enough that they could see a lightning strike move like a tendril of plasma, reach down for the ground with eerie grace.
And just like that lightning strike, the thunderclap followed soon after, a cacophony of gunshots echoing off the walls of the warehouse in the hundreds, the veritable swarm of lead surging towards the motley crew of fishmen, sparing only Mendoza in their flight path. Whether they dodged or died was of no concern to her for the moment.
Then Moira was where countless years of experience had told her she would be, sword tracing a watery arc to eviscerate her. Then Charlotte's other hand blurred out of view before appearing with her other gun, the next thunderclap heralding hundreds of cryo rounds, their paths spread out over Moira to at least hold her, if not freeze her outright, if they could land.
She hoped the pirate could break free. This would be boring otherwise.