"Ha" James half grunted, "We might hav....."<br/><br/>Whatever else he was planning on saying about Tranellore was lost, just like the solid floor under his feet. For a wondrous, fraction of nanosecond, it felt like he was floating and then he was falling. The indignant screech in his ear and the shock flowing through his cybernetic link with his pet, more then told him that he wasn't the only one being dumped from the belly of the Bon Scott. Leaning forwards, he rolled as he hit the ground, doing at least one full flip before coming to a stop on his kneels, automatically unslinging the weapon and bring it to his shoulder. His pet landed on all fours and hunched down, hissing in rage, while glaring up at the departing vessel.<br/><br/>"Fucking bitch" grumbled Morgan, his eyes already picking out which of the figures running towards the little group was closest, the muzzle of his weapon trained on them, "That fucking bitch."<br/><br/>It took him the space of a breath but he forced his finger off the trigger. It wasn't like it wouldn't be easy to smash those civilian grade shields. Two solid metal slugs traveling at the border of supersonic and hypersonic speed would overwhelm them, with a third hitting the human body unopposed. It was more then fascinating, is a morbid sense, the effects of such a shot. At such speeds, the hunk of metal hit with an explosive force and could rip a body apart. Of course that would just turn anyone he shot into a uncontrollable biological bomb, spreading their sickness.<br/><br/>As his companions readied for battle, James stood up and yanked one of the bayonets at his waist from it's sheath. In one quick motion, he snapped it into the lugs on the barrel of his rifle, listening to the hum of a energy filled blade, before yanking his bag off. Without looking, he shoved a hand deep inside, felt around and yanked out a pair of masks. Pulling the first over his head, he slide the clear faceguard into place and switched on the rebreather. Turning slightly, he slipped the second mask over the face of his pet, already sending wordless instructions to the muscled beast. It was more feelings and images then commands he used tell the predator to not engage this enemy, conveying sickness and death in the foe. The beast growled low and it's tail lashed but it obeyed, remaining behind him.<br/><br/>"Blowjobs for all huh" half mused Morgan, as the chick in the fetish outfit starting running forwards, "Sounds like a good reason to stay alive."<br/><br/>He glanced over at the armored figure, the one who had made the first jab at the so called Queen of Carnage and once again thought that it might have been a good idea to have invested in some sort of armor. While it was true that an ANGEL system was good for anything being thrown or shot at you, once you got within the field, it did squat. Some kind of body armor would go a long way in a hand to hand fight but he had always needed the money for something else. Now it seemed like it might bite him in the ass, or at least the lack of it might allow some slobbering infected to bite him in the ass.<br/><br/>"We should stick together" said James, reslinging his pack, "No need to get mobbed under or ambushed from behind. We do this right and we'll one up that bitch Bloodthorn."<br/><br/>Without another word, he charged forwards, after the chick, his pet loping along behind him. He held the rifle like a spear and as he rushed the closest infected, thrust the blade through her eye socket. While he might not need to be that flashy, showing off his skill, he wanted to make sure anything he killed stayed dead. With infected, an electricity cooked brained was the right way to go, if one couldn't cleave the skull in half. Yanking the bayonet free, he turned on his heel and struck again.