Dragons. They're large, hungry, and covered in scales. And - oh yes - they breathe fire. Or poison gas. Or sometimes even the lovely scent of artificial roses. It all depends on which breed you run up against. And did I mention that they're hungry? As in all the time? And that wouldn't be so bad, assuming dragons were the kind of small, winged reptiles from which they evolved millions of years ago. But they aren't. They're actually closer in size to a C-130 cargo plane. You know, the kind of plane that's big enough to carry sixty-four paratroopers into combat. Or a couple humvees. And that's about how much they eat every couple days. Assuming they've finished all their growth spurts and reached maximum size - which usually takes a couple hundred years.
So you'd have to be pretty crazy to go toe-to-toe with a dragon. I mean, unless you have some kind of heavy armor that's resistant to flame, claws, and teeth. (Dragons, like cats, are known to play with their food. They like to break off all the smaller pieces before giving the big meaty chunks to their young.)
Jonathan Mitchell has a standard-issue Kevlar vest, but it's really only good against shrapnel and pistols. He has ceramic plate inserts for the front and back to stop heavier bullets - the kind you'd get from a 7.62mm Kalashnikov, for example. But against the tearing and rending of dragon fangs? I mean, you know that standard-issue body armor doesn't cover the arms and legs, don't you?
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