You slowly, quietly step over to the anomalocaris. You aim the sharp end of the debris down and swing. It lets out a cry. You swing. And swing. Chunks of exoskeleton are dislodged and blood is spilling out from between the metal plates. It's thrashing. You swing. It's crying. You swing. You raise your weapon for the final blow.
Your foot goes numb. No, not numb, exploded. The fireball from the miniature ICBM radiates up your legs as the shrapnel stabs through you, throwing you off your balance and onto the floor. The debris tumbles off to somewhere out of sight. There's a barrel pointing at your head and the fletchette inside glints under the chamber's lights. Before the shock of the missile's impact sets in you clasp your hands over the barrel, frantically hoping it proves possible to crush hard metal under your fingers. Boom. You see red. You see dark. You feel the flechette tear your head and pierce your skull—
