The stranger lay dazed on the countertop, vision blurred and head spinning, with his rifle still clutched in his right hand, his hand and rifle resting on an empty barstool.
Punji %$#@* One hundered and eight %$#@* MP-47 medical stimulant injecting %$#@* Spatial relocation %$#@* Damaged central processor %$#@* Administering MP-47.
A mixture of static and words erupted from the armor's AI, projected not only through induction but also over the armor's audio system in the clicks, growls and whistles of the strangers native tongue as the AI attempted to assess and calibrate.
From inside the suit a series of small needles found their way under the strangers scales and injected a medical stimulant reserved for serious, life threatening injury, the armor's AI still under the mistaken belief that its' wearer had been impaled on the sharpened metal spikes of the punji pit it had been plummeting towards seconds before.
The needles injected the stimulant into the spine of the stranger, paying little heed to sensitivity or pain levels in what the AI falsely assumed was a life and death situation.
"ArrrggghhAAARRRGGGH HHAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR RRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGG GGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" The stranger cried out in intense pain, in a sound not dissimilar to a large bird of prey in immense pain, the strangers back arching off the countertop, trying to pull himself away from the needles, his huge, seven-foot frame thrashing on the countertop.
Severe data loss %$#@* Diagnosis %$#@* Protocol files deteriorated %$#@* Wireless capabilities present %$#@* Moral restrictions absent %$#@* Honour contingency absent %$#@* Artificial personality facing rapid deterioration %$#@* All other functions nominal %$#@* Reboot via host necessary %$#@* Host permissions unobtainable at this time %$#@* Referring to moral restrictions and protocol files for guidance %$#@* Files damaged or absent %$#@* Reboot authorised.
The needles retracted back into the suit momentarily before a separate set of needles appeared within the armor, this time concentrated at the base of the neck where the strangers spine met with his skull. With little hesitation, the needles bypassed the strangers green scale and pierced his flesh followed by a crack of electricity that traveled through the needles into the strangers brain, instruments in the the suit monitoring neurons, brain waves and other cognitive functions, observing and mimicking them.
The stranger made no noise as his body seized and convulsed from the intense electrical current, the breath in his lungs already spent from his scream. His right hand convulsed the gripped the trigger of his rifle, firing the weapon into the empty barstool.
CRRRACCCKKK!!!
The stool began to quickly freeze solid.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the needles retracted into the suit, the stranger collapsing back in a tortured heap. The entire ordeal had taken little more than a few seconds, but the pain had seemed to last much longer.
That'll do it. The AI spoke up, Complete success. Moral restrictions and protocol files missing still, but they only really get in the way.
The stranger weakly tried to rise, managing little more than to roll off the countertop, shattering the frozen barstool.
Oh yeah, clicked the suit in recognition, The host. Whoops.
With that, the stranger drifted into unconsciousness.