A sudden, rending scream from the depths of hell made even these seasoned veterans jerk and twirl toward this terrifying, unknown enemy. Aaron's high-speed slug gun had the piercing screech of a banshee as he stood there - his legs so immobile despite the wicked recoil that they seemed bolted to the stone floor. With his upper body and shoulders, he muscled the gun in sweeping motions that disintegrated cold metal and warm flesh alike, each shredding like paper from the gun's heavy slugs. They danced and lurched on invisible strings that plucked them from both sides; the ricocheting pieces of jagged metal being even worse than the slugs.