[h1]Paris Beurra[/h1]

Pushing over trees in his path with his shield or head, clearing a nice splintered pathway of destruction for any who decide to follow, the armored man known as Sergeant Beurra, or Paris ran like a fat man to a buffet. His back began to look like a porcupine with metal projectiles sticking to the red hot metal of his armor. Inside, he began to look like a lobster of sorts. If it wasn't for ventilation, air conditioning, and him running, he would have likely been a roasted man. Burns had begun to form around large contact points, such as the hip, knees, elbows, neck, and hands. 

He heard mainly static, but thankfully luck was on his side today as he was heading in the correct direction in his blind sprint. He hit the road and skidded into some probably dead guy's van leaving a large dent where his shoulder and head made an impact. Yelling and shouting ensued, and after realizing that he was against a vehicle he pulled his shoulder from its resting spot and started to move down the road again. 

He looked to his left to see the bio construct. He prayed this thing was just using targeting systems with dumbfire munitions, they could at least be dodged. The hamster wheel began turning in his mind. If something was apart of a military, or whoever the fuck these guys were with, that they will likely have the same train of thought as him. A metaphorical crayon lamp over his head had begun to shine brightly. If he pissed this thing off, maybe it would focus on him as he was the biggest and baddest idiot on the field. Get rid of him, and it can have a field day with the others, after all, he did survive one of its attacks.  But, if it's using dumbfire and shoots everything at a stationary target, that should give him a half minute to run the fuck away. 

His leg dropped onto his knee as he slid a few feet and his shield on its side was mounted by his rifle. He aimed, "Oi fucknugget," screamed the angry armored man. "I bet you can't hit me!" he yelled out a shot rang out towards the bioconstruct, aimed at the main body. He shot a second time standing up, hitting his shield against the barrel of his rifle to make noise as he started to walk at a brisk pace towards it. 

He noticed someone else was shooting at it from the side, but that did not matter to him. He lifted his shield up in front of him, and put it on the rollers for parts of his running duration. He was not at a good run, and still picking up speed as he went into a sprint, the red hot armor creaking and making enough noise to sound like a pile up on a highway. He took one last peek over his shield, putting his rifle on his back magnetically, and putting both hands on the shield, one on the main magnetic handle, and the left on the grip of his shotgun. He knew his target, and the metal man decided it was best to jump now for maximum potential also so if this didn't go the way he wanted he could pull the shield over him in case of retaliation. 

For a moment, he soared before hopefully smashing into this thing's legs to knock it out from under itself, if not just tackle it to the ground. Because when in doubt, don't fuck around and find out with a shipload of pissed off and armed passengers.