“The Necanthrope is, besides money, the most powerful weapon in SLA’s arsenal,” the drill sergeant barked, marching up and down in front of the recruits. “It is also their weakness, a mark of their reliance on the strange, the unknown. A living metaphor and symbol for SLA itself either ugly as sin, a ravaging terror, or a beautiful and beguiling lie. Take down a Nec and you’re taking down a symbol of SLA.”
The suit was in pieces back there, torn, burnt, frozen, shattered, even a powersuit wasn’t built to take that kind of punishment all at once but she managed to escape, crawling out the back into the rubble and debris while ceramic melted like wax and metal caught fire, bullets cooking off like popcorn. The inner suit, gashed and leaking coolant, wasn’t any protection worth a damn, but better that than naked.
“Rule one when fighting one of these unnatural bastards… don’t get out of your suit. They’ll eviscerate you, boil you, freeze you solid, rain acid down upon you until you’re nothing but bone and a bad smell. You’ll only be able to stand up to them – toe to toe – in the heaviest armour you can find.”
She clutched her pistol so tight her hand bled, squirming through the shattered concrete like a worm, a pale maggot, leaving a slick trail of coolant behind her, cocking her head, listening, his heavy clawed tread was crushing the debris even more, wearing it down like it had worn the armour down.
“Rule two, heavy weapons. You need a cannon or something fully automatic at the very least, DPU is a must when taking on this opponent. Get your weapons laced with it, make sure you have a mag or drum of the good stuff in reserve, just in case. Not a lot else is going to get through a high end deathsuit and you know they’re going to have more than that to defend themselves with.”
Gouts of light and flame were blasting into the rubble now, sending red hot fragments scattering in all directions. It was looking for her, toying with her, playing with her, it wasn’t taking her seriously. It was kind of insulting, but it made sense, what kind of threat was she now?
“Rule three, don’t. If you can at all avoid it do not engage with these sons of whores. Leave it to some other poor fuck or hit them from orbit.”
Ah screw it… what did the sarge know? She’d escaped, she was underestimated, she had the element of surprise? What was the worst that could happen?
She cocked the gun, slipped off the safety tensed…