It was early in the afternoon. The day was bright but the air was cool as Franks rode on the running boards of an armored Suburban. He savored the feeling of speed and the rush of air over his new skin in the few seconds before they crashed through the chain link fence of the STFU base. The SUV bounced across the rough field at over fifty miles an hour, abusing their shocks, while hurtling toward the biggest hangar. His tie was whipping around in the wind. Franks’ new hands were not yet properly callused, and they ached from holding onto the roof handles. The other MCB vehicles veered off behind them, each element heading toward a different building.

“Movement in the tower,” a voice reported in Franks’ earpiece. “Taking fire! Taking fire!”

It wasn’t much of a control tower, more of a shed with windows and a balcony on top of an old wooden house. There were two figures inside and both of them were shooting rifles at his people. A bullet bounced off their armored hood. Franks left one hand on the roof to keep from being flung off, and pulled out a Glock 20 with the other. The long extended magazine hanging out of the grip made drawing it from his suit slightly awkward, but Franks liked this pistol. It was special.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppp.

All thirty rounds ripped through the control tower and its inhabitants in less than two seconds. Franks was probably the only member of the MCB who could use a full-auto 10mm handgun with the cyclic rate of a buzz saw, especially one-handed and bouncing around on the side of a moving vehicle without uselessly decorating the clouds. Even with the brand new, still unsteady hand, he was certain he’d hit both targets several times each.

Except they kept on firing, which told Franks he was dealing with Nemesis. MCB agents came out of their turrets and opened up with their machine guns. Their hidden snipers engaged the tower with their .50, but Nemesis wasn’t backing down. “Keep going!” Franks ordered as bullets tore through the air around him. They reached the side of the hangar and the driver stomped on the brakes. Franks stepped off the running board and hit the ground, but his new leg wasn’t quite strong enough yet to take a twenty-mile-an-hour impact, and he stumbled. Franks crashed into the dirt and slid on his face until coming to a stop.

He rolled over, yanked another long magazine from his belt and slammed it home. He cranked that off through the tower windows in another continuous burst. He saw blood hit the broken glass a split second before it disintegrated entirely. One of the Nemesis soldiers leapt out the back. The other took a .50 to the chest and bounced off the back wall.