Asher leaned back in his chair and smoothed out his messy hair with his hand. "What are they saying? It's true. Every word of it."
His voice was low, steady, but there was an edge of frustration. "We had our firearms, but they didn't do much. Regular bullets just pissed them off. We had to concentrate fire on the same spot, over and over, to even make a dent in their hide."
"What about close combat?" he asked.
He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Tactical knives? Might as well be toothpicks. If you don't have a more advanced tool, you're merely grazing the surface.
"What happens if you can't handle the rebound after landing a hit?" He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're dead meat."
"We require better gear and smarter training. Now, it's like showing up to a tank fight with a slingshot." As he became more serious.
