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 lef🍷t 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, ꦰignoring me and b📖lind-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 ꦦfridge, sir."

"What?"

"You and everyone else in this squad seems to be made out of nothing but 𓆏muscles 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 w🌟arfare in this dystopian future."

"Notꦫ 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 s🐼econds 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...