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Half Breeds- Part Three

Most guys hate the lab. Not me. They hate the lectures, the updates, the endless tinkering. I like to show off.

When someone says to me “Hey, what have you been doing with your imaging links?” or “This ware was never meant to work under these conditions!” it’s a compliment. Officially, they have to disapprove. Secretly, they like it. They just want to see what’s cool and what’s next like anyone else.

The whole thing takes less than an hour. There’s not much that they can do for upgrades that I haven’t already taken care of myself. Since I’m going back into service, my weapons systems are armed and reloaded.

In another hour, I’m suited up and riding in a black personnel carrier through Beverly Hills.

I might as well be on Mars. We pass by seventeen cars that are worth more than the city I was born in. I scan the people as we roll by. Hell, some of these people have more mods than me. Angelyne’s practically an animatronic by now.

At sunset, we arrive to the compound where the Senator is staying. Per protocol, I’m due to check in with his peeps tonight for duty tomorrow.

The P.C. rolls silently up to the gate. Not bad. Some record company guy’s place, I’ve heard. The Senator’s in town for fund raising. That’s the only time they ever come out to Cali, and they sure as hell don’t come around to my part of town.

While the driver yaks at the gate, I swing around to check out the surveillance. I see the truck across the street full of armored assault troops.

“Don’t you think that’s overkill for this neck of the woods?” I jerk my thumb back over my shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” answers the agent in the suicide seat.

Bam. Game on.

The explosion throws the carrier into a passing Ferrari. I cover my head with my arms and launch myself through the smoking hole that used to be the cab.

The assault troops are already mobilizing out of the truck. They’re quick.

I’m on my feet and moving away from the carrier. I manage to tear an assault gun away from one of the armored goons. Most of his arm comes with it.

A quick burst of fire. Incendiary rounds burst on his helmet. As his head burns away, he screams. I scan the radio waves, searching for their channel.

They’ve figured out that I’m a problem. I’ve counted twelve active hostiles. Six of them break and cover me with fire.

Half an assault squad. I’m flattered.

A quick jump backwards, 3.7 meters up and over. I’m behind a wall. It was made for keeping out paparazzi, not bullets, so it only buys me a little time.

Time enough. I’ve got their frequency. I feed back into their helmets and jump back over the wall and let loose.

The Rush kicks in. Massive stimulation of the pleasure centers of my brain. Bastards.

I hate how good I’ve become at this.

That's a punch in the face

The action there really jumps out pretty suddenly. I like it. A quick note - you want "compliment", not "complement".

I like how the narration gets choppy and brisk during the action, slower and more detailed when there's not as much going on.


One of the quirks of spell-check- homophones.

every wall collapses, given enough time.