Quoted By:
“Ah, hell. Come on you bastards, you gonna sit there in your own piss, or are you actually going to fight to survive ?” You shout, raising your rifle and pressing down on the trigger.
It seems that your “encouragement” had woken up your comrades from their stupor. You’d like to describe their bravery, their valour, their skill when facing insurmountable odds and an unbeatable adversary.
But you can’t. More like panicking children than feared pirates, their rifle fire is sporadic, unfocused, carry out more out of instinct and desire to survive than any real conscious thought. The fact that most of them are screaming doesn’t really help.
As the cyborg charges your line. With a casual wave of his hand, he impacts one of the men. A wet <span class="mu-i">thwap</span> resounds as the man’s head is twisted in a most unfortunate manner, his neck clearly broken.
Grabbing another by the neck, your foe lifts off the ground as your friend struggles, screams, kicks and punches. Which is rather sickening, as you hear the noise of bone breaking and flesh tearing, his attacks entirely pointless. His suffering is then quickly ended by a sight that actually causes you to vomit. Quickly, the left arm of the iron man transforms into that of a hand instead of the machine gun it had been previously, with a powerful and swift motion, he then drives it through the chest. The still beating heart now held in his hand, behind the chest of your, now former, comrade.
“What the hell !?” One screams, quickly having his bowels crushed by a mighty stomp from the cyborg’s foot.
“Jesus Christ !” Says another, like the men before him wildly firing his rifle, struggling to get away. He fails by slipping upon still warm and bloody guts. He scrambles forward, trying to find purchase, but the floor is entirely even. He is suddenly lifted by his leg and hefted upwards, to be brought down low with an overbearing swing. Unluckily for the man, he doesn’t die from the first impact as it no doubt breaks his bones, judging from the blood spewing from his mouth, the hit had also resulted in his ribs piercing his bones. Another swing, and he’s no longer screaming, nor crying.
Discarding his latest victim. The metal man rises to his full height. “You will all pay, cubs of Roy. You will all pay for what you did to my brother !” The metallic voice, filled with rage finally breaks the will of your remaining fellows.
This however, bring an opportunity. In its charge against your group, he had actually bypassed you, damn good thing too, since you’re out of ammo by now, with no replacements nearby. You could stay here, and die, as another one has his leg ripped off and then is beaten to death by it. Or, you could run, run as fast as your damned legs can carry you, which ache witnessing the sight in front of you. Engineering is but scant meters away, you can make, you can’t secure it, but your trusty “homemades” are still on your belt.
