The bay doors hiss open. A tide of Data-Hounds and Turret-Walkers screeches toward you. You pull the trigger.
The recoil should have shattered your arm, but the Trainer compensates, turning the kickback into a kinetic shield. A literal wall of fire, blades, and electrified lead erases the front line of the swarm in a single heartbeat. You aren't just fighting through the ship; you are rewriting its physics. MOTHERGUNSHIP: FORGE Trainer
"Standard weapon protocols are for the weak," you mutter, slamming a chaotic assortment of rocket pods, sawblade launchers, and lightning coils onto your wrist-mounted chassis. The Trainer hums, bypassing the ship's safety limiters. Normally, this many attachments would melt a suit’s power grid, but the Trainer forces the energy to flow, creating a weapon that looks more like a metal briar patch than a gun. The bay doors hiss open