He didn’t know what it was, but when he started to come down from the battle rush, it was like he’d run a marathon, even when it was the suit taking up most of the slack.

A scraping hiss startled the former JTF2 soldier into action as he turned against the wall and fell into a crouch with his empty rifle braced against his knee. He poked the muzzle around the corner, linking his HUD into the rifle’s camera, and swept it around in an attempt to locate the source of the sound.

When he found it, all thought of a post-battle crash was gone as another surge of adrenaline struck him.

“Oh fuck.”

Those two words were all he had time to get out as one of the drones surged around the corner and practically ran him over in what had to be a shock of the ages for both of them. Bermont was out of ammo in his rifle, too close to draw his pistol, and knocked back on his ass by a multiton insect that may or may not have been as surprised as he was. Either way, it had the advantage of weight and position, and it became clear in an instant that it wasn’t planning on wasting either.

The heavy smack sent Bermont’s MX-112 flying before he could pull it back, leaving the soldier barely enough time to roll clear before the heavy blow cleaved into the structure where his head had been.

The drone gave an odd hiss as it rushed around the corner, striking again at him as the armored soldier rolled desperately, then slapped his right hand down into the ground with a full-powered strike.

The slap cracked against the smooth, glassy material of the promenade floor, its force lifting him off the ground as another cleaving strike landed where he had been. He tucked his arms into his torso as he spun in the air, using his feet and legs to control his spin as he landed back on his feet.

The move left him facing the wrong direction when he landed, but the 360-degree panorama the suit afforded kept him informed of what the enemy at his back was doing, just in time to sidestep another strike and spin as he pulled his carbon-steel kukri from the sheath in the thigh of his armor.

The blade was curved and honed to a fine, though not razor, edge and it actually swooshed as it parted the air and the armor-assisted strike went through. The blade bit into the drone’s mandible, causing it to jump back before it hissed again and lifted its leg up over four meters above Bermont’s head.

He saw the blow coming, his mind already running at that insane speed combat seemed to induce, but his own reactions felt as sluggish as the fluid motion of his foe. He let go of the kukri, bringing his right hand up to block the blow as the leg came crashing down into his shoulder with force enough to rupture the carbon-fiber armor and dig deep into his shoulder.