The sky above the port was the color of gun metal. If clouds could rust, it would've been a perfect match for the unmaintained hulks anchored near the shore. Light rain fogged Tony's glasses, but he didn't even register that. Escalating waves - threatening to swamp his latest find, that could be an annoyance.
Gun shot. Twenty meters, Northwest. Lorraine just loved that Gauss rifle. Even claimed she could hear the difference between an electro-mag and a nitro burner. Sure, the differences were there - but for for all of a fraction of a second. Tony didn't buy it, but hey - snipers were supposed to be eccentric.
Tony's radio buzzed, Butch overly polite and California twanged. "Boss - we might want to try another day. Company is getting a might unpleasant."
"We're not passing up a coast guard cutter for a couple of walkers. You're in a mighty mac - use it!"
"I sent Mr. Bleeder a twenty millimeter invitation to lie down, but he snubbed my invitation."
Bleeder. Nanao pus hemorrhaging advanced necrotic type two Beta according to the old CDC records. Only one in a few hundred rate of appearing. More than capable of opening an armored vehicle like a tin can.
"The others will have the Ike ready in a few minutes. Hold them. The guidance chips from the missiles alone could net us another truck, to say nothing of recovering the explosives. Its floating gold."
"Thank you Boss, I wasn't sure what my life was worth before. Its a good thing to know. If you'll excuse me, I'll go turn on the charm".
Butch flipped the second of the power switches, going from motive limited to full combat power, warming up the radar, cooling the thermo-graphs, and setting the hydraulics to full pressure. The 1800 pound suit went from sluggish to - still sluggish, but capable of flipping a compact car. A few taps on the main control panel, and half the helmet mounted display switched to false color images. Triple cameras behind an armor glass plate followed his head movements.
It didn't take long to find the target. thirty-nine degrees Centigrade in an open window on a fifteen degree day. Two 80mm rockets qued up, guidance lasers bright one on either side of the blip. A quiet hiss and the rockets were...
Bam! "Armor Breach" yelled in the left speaker. Power failure in fuel cell number four. Like a swimmer in molasses the unit twisted around, but the assailant was gone. Probably already climbing one of the gantry cranes for another hit an run attack. No point in playing this thing's game. Throttle forward, and clanking footsteps carried the unit towards the front gate.
"I heard a boom. Please tell me that was a good boom."
"I toasted one boss, but there is at least one more, and it hit the battery pack. Cell three is already dry, so I'm down to 50% here."
"Where is it?"
"I don't kn..."
"Its on me, its on me its..."
Metal talons caved in the camera pack, only inches above the pilot's head. A quick button macro, and the right arm swung across the armor like an old farmer wiping sweat from his brow - knocking the creature to the ground. Another quick joystick manipulation, and the left arm punched forward, stopping inches from the opponent. The 7.62mm machine-gun opened up for a full second burst, fifty bullets eliminating the need to drive a delicate manipulator into the concrete.
"Another one down."
"Stay sharp - more will be approaching after that explosion. Once we get to the boat, they should have a harder time getting too us."