Dzhaggernaut description

At first, I thought it must be some sort of optical trick. A forced perspective with the floor and the cavern walls. The Dzhaggernaut appeared to be standing level with me, maybe fifteen paces away, yet somehow I was looking up at him. Way up. No one could be that big. Then, without warning, he leapt forward, halving the distance between us in a single bound. My heart lurched into my throat. There was just no fucking way. Nothing that freakishly large should be able to move like that. It was like watching a Tyrannosaur leap to your side of a river you’d thought uncrossable. He could be on me in an instant. From there. And now there was no doubting it. Dzhaggernaut was nearly eight feet tall.

An overwhelming urge to run nearly consumed me, but there was nowhere to go.

It dawned on me then that this must be how I made others feel.

It sucked.

I stood there, frozen in shock and awe, gaping at him. He was now fully illuminated in the flashlight beam. Which only amplified the nightmare.

He was . . . impossible. He towered over me. His enormous body fully encased in gunmetal grey combat armor. A head-to-toe hard-plate system with over-locking joints and a four-inch thick steel neck plate. No weak points. And heavy. Which only made his astounding leap that much more terrifying. He was powerful. Explosive. Impenetrable. And, did I mention, eight fucking feet tall.

A god damned Juggernaut.

For the first time in my life, I felt . . . puny.

His armored helmet was counter-sunk into the neck plate so only the top half of his head showed, face hidden behind a tinted eye shield. I figured he could survive a nuclear strike to the eyeball in that thing. If that wasn’t enough, attached to his massive suit of armor was enough weaponry to invade Russia. I counted a KA-BAR 2217 Big Brother combat dagger hanging from his left hip; a Desert Eagle 50 AE, the world’s largest caliber handgun, holstered to his right; an M48 tactical warhammer, the meatier buddy of the tomahawk The Thing had hacked me up with, built in to a kevlar sheath on his left thigh; a 4-gauge TOZ KS-23M pump-action shotgun, a Russian monster large enough to level ten elephants with a single shot, in a similar built-in holster on his right; and, I kid you not, a fucking Hanwei Odachi samurai sword dangling from a low-slung sheath on his left hip. There was also something enormous attached to his back, but I couldn’t quite make it out behind the towering steel neck plate.
-Sledge vs. The Labyrinth, pg. 291-292