Johnquis didn't back off
He could feel it—the cracks, the hesitation in the Tanker's movement. It was bleeding. Slower. Sloppy.
"You feel that?" he growled, swinging his chain again. "That's fear. You're not used to losing, are you?"
He paced forward, eyes locked. "Tell me… how many Eater Blades have you chewed through? We cleaned this whole place out. Every hole. You and that Digger were the only High Eaters left. I'm betting the squads before us already took care of your crew."
He raised the chain, pointing it straight at the creature's chest.
"Look at you! Shining like some damn final boss. And you really are, huh? Enslaving you triggers a bonus condition. I can already taste it... six thousand bonus feed count."
He lunged. The chain whistled, striking the beast's shoulder. Another spray of black ichor. Another grunt of pain.
Johnquis grinned through his own blood. "I can work with this. Bit by bit. I'll tear you apart."
