Deploying the K-11 off the back of a truck this first time is a homage to BGC 2040, which I saw first of the various incarnations.

Night Life 1

"Stop the truck!"

"It's another three and a half bloc-"

"Stop the goddamn truck!" Rookies. Bad enough the maintenance team hadn't managed to get the suit jets working, but at least the ADPolice's first K-11 deployment was going to happen anyways. "You don't get up in their faces, okay? Dismounting." A brief pause while he got off the truck. "Scoot." They needed to come up with a safe way to dismount from a ground vehicle on the move, but the weight distribution change made the truck driver's life impossible. "McNichol, this is K-11-2, I'm a block behind you."

Leon McNichol would have given thanks to a deity at that moment had he been particularly religious. "We dropped one but the other's just about run us dry on ammo. Put this thing down as hard as you can."

"As ordered." There was a roar from somewhere overhead and behind. That would be his competitors in the hardsuits coming, but they weren't here yet. And his professional pride wouldn't let him just sit back and let the Knight Sabers handle it.

Bring the gun up. Clear shot, open fire. The boomer's not a combat model, no ranged weapons and thank god for that, but the industrial applications type could do a lot of damage with bare hands. It charged but stumbled under the barrage, and it had to go three blocks to get to him anyways. Glory be, it was dumb enough to stand out in the street and let him tear it apart at distance.

The left and right hands were first to go, flying off amid clouds of shrapnel. They were the weakest joints. The Boomer's left knee seized up next, but didn't break. Then the right arm came off at shoulder. The K-11's weapon went click two rounds later, leaving the boomer a block closer, crippled, but still very much active.

Sonofa- He had been warned, repeatedly, about the ability of a berserked boomer to withstand damage beyond what it seemingly had any right to, but absorbing a full two hundred and fifty rounds of 12.7mm and still being standing? "McNichol, I just ran dry, reloading. If you guys have to finish this on your own," get back, stay away from it even if it's crippled, the damn thing can still probably punch straight through your armor and if you let it near you you're dead, "tell the ordnance guys we need to switch to tungsten or DU twelve-point-seven because the regular load isn't cutting it."

The ladies in the hardsuits stepped in and took over, because reloading took too long. One more thing he'd note in the AARs if he lived long enough.

It was, however, nice of them not to wander into his field of fire while he was shooting. It would be a shame to accidentally injure one of them, considering their skills.