War. Magnificent, illustrious war. The heat of the battle, andrenaline rushing through your veins, as you struggle to kill, before being killed. To shoot, before being put a bullet in your brain, or before the next missile explodes all over your back. Or before the heavy caliber machine guns drop you dead. Blood, death, screaming bodies, echoes and pledges, lives spared, and lives removed. The bestiality of war. War, after all, is violent. And the only rule that applies in war, is the simple rule, of survival of the strongest. The most capable. The better prepared soldier. Psychologically, and physically. And the Juggernauts were designed to excel in both. Well, maybe not that much in the psychological factor. But they all shared a common trait here - the pleasure to kill. And the pleasure to kill everybody that would ever dare to stand against them. Showing no mercy. Sparing no man, woman, child. Eventually, they would all be killed by their hands. Every man would be punished by death.
Jerry stood there, in the middle of the battlefield, having recently being deployed to grasp the surrounding, and reach into the horizon, peeking into the detail of the landscape. Soldiers and Juggernauts were in a craze, firing massive amounts of projectiles towards every imaginable direction. It didn't matter where, what mattered was how many would drop dead to it. He clinged on himself, checking his communications. "Jerry reporting in." he said. "Any member of the squad copying?" He tickled nervously, started tapping his fingers as he waited for a response.
Some missile flied right next to him. The noisy pitch of the kinetic force that the projectile was generating screeched into his ear. What the hell was that again? Can't he get a second to catch up? Looks like there was little to no time remaining, better to start the business. "This is Jerry, if anybody copies, I've been deployed. What's our status?" He checked back on the battlefield, as the main Juggernaut forces had already moved couple of hundred yards ahead of him. Jesus Christ I'm late. He thought, drawing his two thirteen milimeter chambered pistols, his weapons of choice, Lucifer and Michael.
Lucifer was a heavily modified Desert Eagle standard issue fifty caliber pistol. The customized model that he was wielding featured an extended barrel length, gas powered trigger mechanisms which significantly increased the firepower the gun could put in a fight, and a custom made magazine which could store one more .50 ACP bullet compared to the traditional deagle, featuring a total of eight rounds ready to be fired. Michael was designed from the ground up to be a custom fit for a Juggernaut. The gun weights ten libres, is eight inches long, and boasts an amazing reconstructed thirteen milimeter barrel and bullet chamber, which allow for an amazing firing precision to effective ranges of up to eight hundred meters, if the wielder was skilled enough in handling it. The ammunition mag is the same custom model used in Lucifer - allowing for another eight shot magnificence of the fiftyinth caliber. Both weapons were loaded with Heavy Explosive rounds, and Jerry was carrying two more H.E. loaded mags, one for each pistol. Apart from the explosive rounds, he was also carrying six mags of standard issue .50 ACP, and four mags of Heavy Magnum rounds. Compared to the .50 ACP, the .44 Magnum rounds boasted somewhat less kick, but due to the reduced size each mag could store ten rounds instead of eight, allowing Jerry to sustain fire for longer. Some soldier could say that wielding pistols as main firearms is a lunatic idea, which only crazy madmen eager to die would adapt on the battlefield. But Jerry was not an exception to this. Apart from the part where he actually likes the small firearms. They are more agile, easier to hide, faster to reload, and take up less time to use. Both of the pistols featured custom paint on their handles, classic work of art inspired by Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy. Michael from Paradise. Lucifer from Inferno.
Admiring the two weapons of choice, Jerry stood behind the frontline, essentially waiting for a response to arrive. Any response would do. From a simple order to kill whatever he catches upon his sight, which would be the first thing he wanted to do right now, to demolishing some enemy barricade. He was the tactical engineer after all. And he carried explosives. Kilos of gunpowder and plastic explosives, ready to turn to dust any material required to.