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Failed Sentry Duty

Skintrooper 5232, despite a lifetime commitment to training and service, pitifully fails her guard duty in the halls of Biolab Sector C as an enemy infiltrator sneaks up behind her and snaps her neck.

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Album name:Meatlover / Battle Babes
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Rating (5 votes):5(Show details)
# of Favorites:1
Ranking:495 - Double Ruby
Filesize:335 KiB
Date added:Mar 18, 2017
Dimensions:1800 x 1350 pixels
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Stephy.Brooks88   [Mar 23, 2017 at 03:38 pm]
Such an amazing neck-snap!! You did a really amazing job showing how quick and hard and brutal it was... sooo good!!
Fightfreak2002   [Apr 18, 2017 at 04:30 am]
Such a shame she couldn't blame me for having boffed her beautiful big-titted brains out the night before!
cyke70   [Jun 05, 2017 at 04:23 am]
Skintroopers are not only young, inexperienced and scarcely trained fighters. Their body structure is quite weak and frail compared to the natives, due to the gravity of this world.
In hand-to-hand combat, for which they are also not duly equipped, they often succumb in large numbers to their opponents. Which is one of the reasons why the rebels always try to reduce the distance.

In close quarters, Skintroopers' unwieldly SMGs are particularly ineffective. The rebels carry and master the use of short, sturdy blades: they dive into the unsteady ranks of the helpless enemies and butcher them by the dozens. Due to the low density of their juvenile bodies, the young Imperial slaves are in fact remarkably easy to cut open. Unworthy of any kindness or compassion, the alien invaders squeal and drop handsomely and copiously but never retreat, driven by that fanatical zeal instilled by the genetic alterations they receive after conscription.

Infiltrators are aware of this physical fragility and often snap sentries' necks during stealthy operations. Which is a quiet and clean form of death to inflict upon these miserable gilts, as it leaves no blood spills around. Effective, though not as gratifying as slicing them up.

The garrison commander walks along a corridor accompanied by her personal guard. She notices the absence of the sentries she had posted at every intersection.
"Where is the piece assigned to this position? Find it at once: I want to cut its vile belly open with my hands!"
"It is here, mistress. Slain!" responds one of the guards.
"Raise the alarm immediately, mindless slave!"
The Skintrooper reaches for the transmitter, when the tip of a blade exits from her chest! The infiltrator steps backwards holding her squirming shield when the other guards start firing. As she turns a corner, she discards the riddled body and dashes atop a flight of stairs into a small armory with no exit.
She is trapped, but she will be able to resist there.
The Captain calls for reinforcements: an entire regiment of Skintroopers is stationed in the base: 5,000 newly arrived recruits two years below legal combat age, due to amendment 237.
The oncoming units are ordered to start climbing the stairs. The defender had time to mount a defense. Imperial weapons are encoded to Skintroopers' DNA and cannot be activated, but she brought a modified SMG which can use enemy bullets, and ammunitions are available aplenty in the small armory.
As soon as the young slaves start approaching, the infiltrator pours fire into their tight ranks. With slow and steady sweeps of her weapon, she slaughters row after row of defenseless assailants, who squeal and drop in a glorious and rightful progression. The low quality Imperial bullets rip through the soft juvenile bodies of the relentless attackers effortlessly. Rapidly accumulating on the stairs, they turn the following columns into slow moving targets, even easier to kill. The mindless assailants temporarily stop dying and manage to advance only when the rebel has to change a magazine, and despite the dreadful carnage they are enduring, they keep falling closer to the small door behind which hides their merciless executioner. She takes their worthless young lives with bitter determination and cold efficiency. She feels no pity or remorse for these despicable Imperial conscripts.
When the frenzied horde of Skintroopers finally reaches the room, the defender discards the firearm and takes out her trusted and lethal dagger. Her unskilled enemies can only walk in pairs through the narrow access, and with rhythmic powerful slashes she cuts them open as soon as they enter. Like in a magnificent dance of death, two young slaves step in, shriek and drop to the ground alternatively on the right or on the left. Again, and again, and again, and again… it nearly seems that they stand in a line waiting for their turn to be sliced apart. It doesn't take much effort to the defender: she severs the soft juvenile bellies and chests of her helpless victims with ease.
From the back, the Captain shouts “Fire! Fire at her, you wretched curs!” Her troops obey. But the defender grabs two and uses them as shield. Holding the childish hands of the riddled enemis, she pulls the triggers of their weapon and discharges both into their sisters, adding several to the already huge piles of carcasses.
Then, finally, she succumbs to the impossible numbers of Skintroopers firing at her. Before exhaling her final breath, she observes the aftermath of her brutal work: several hundreds of unworthy, miserable Imperial slaves lie dead and dying in the room and along the full length of the staircase.

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