| Subject: Re: Waking up...or maybe not |
Author:
BroGrim
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Date Posted: 01:45:03 02/10/01 Sat
In reply to:
Lord Eugene
's message, "Re: Waking up...or maybe not" on 23:31:06 02/09/01 Fri
Hundreds of rounds bounced harmlessly against the cyborg's armor, reflecting hot lead everywhere. The massive upper half spun in a slow circle, firing off the remaining minigun rounds on slow sucession, the AI doing it's best to compensate for the mecha dragon's damaged arm and putting a round in each target seen. That was untill the explosive rounds started impacting, knocking Bro'Grim back, bit by bit as each detonation cut into the armor.
Whipping the tail laser around, a searing hot beam of red light cut into the troops as the ammo reserves was bottoming out of the minigun. The internal warnings screamed out damage reports, energy loss, and various other problems.
His left arm was still intact and very much active. Reaching out to grab, swipe, and cut into anyone and anything nearby, the cyborg's last result was to do as much physical damage as possible before being destroyed. Grabbing soldiers and throwing them, using the talon-like feet and kicking lightly armored flesh, and using piercing metallic fangs like a wild animal made this more than a machine, but a savage, wounded animal bewhose only recourse was a fight for it's life. This was the original intent of Bro'Grim's creators: physical ferocity which adds to the cyborg's fear factor. If the enemy didn't run in terror, they would most certianly die if they didn't get "it" first.
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