Day two: Combat with Marcus Fenix
"Get up!" Marcus bellowed at me, over the gunfire.
"Yep, on it, getting there," I said. "This stuff is all really heavy, though, sir." I struggled under armour that felt like someone had battered a truck into a sort of man-shape and left it at that.
"This 'stuff' is all vital to the defensive operation, rook!" spat Marcus Fenix. "You've got your massively heavy sleeveless combat armour..."
"Yeah, about that--where do I get sleeves for this? I think I might need sleeves in case I get shot in the arm."
"...you've got your grenades stuck to chains," he said, ignoring me and blind-firing round his cover, "and you've got your choice of two absurdly large firearms."
"One of which has a chainsaw on the end."
"That's right!"
"Which I turn on and sort of... stick in people."
"Right!"
"It's just, um. I'm not built like a fridge, sir."
"What?"
"You and everyone else in this squad seems to be made out of nothing but muscles layered on top of other muscles. I can't keep up."
"Bullshit!" he growled. "Now, if you'll look to your right, you'll see a series of waist-high, ruined walls. These form the basis of warfare in this dystopian future."
"Not laser guns, or unmanned drones, or space warfare, or orbital strikes?"
"Nope!"
"Not even proper walls. Ruined walls?"
"Yep! Now get behind one, because I'm going to get shot to within an inch of my life in about thirty seconds and I'll need someone to PUNCH ME AWAKE when that happens."
"Right you are, sir."
Click on for Day three: survival training with Jason Brody...
