Variance: Act 1

PROLOGUE

Time

Time never stops. The second hand will continue ticking. The world will continue spinning. The sun, the stars, space, will forever be in existence. Life is malleable; squeeze it tight enough and it will end; push it hard enough and it will break. Certainty.

But love; like the coming of the tide can fade, forcefully or with ease. Time eases the pain. But with enough time can the memory be erased. Only death can erase everything.

PART 1

Abigail

Abigail Summers was born in the cold January of 1984. Her mother would die shortly after childbirth and her father would never come to terms with it. She would grow up as all children do, an overactive imagination and a knack for getting into trouble.

She never had an interest in boys, or girls for that matter. She had only ever kissed a boy once, after senior prom. She was not amused nor inspired by it. She moved away for school and studied something most would find uninteresting. After graduation, at the young age of 23 she started her career in the mail room of a startup science company, Industrial Science Operations Organization.

Her hard work ethic, and limited social life helped her work her way up to a high management position within the growing company. She often worked late and alone with only Howard, the night shift security guard to converse with. She would continue working this way, until the night she died.

She sat at her desk, typing diligently. An empty, coffee-stained mug sat just to the right of her keyboard. She had had to pee for quite some time, but figured if she could finish her current document she could get a refill on her coffee and chat with Howard before returning to work.

“And save,” she said as she pressed the familiar buttons of her keyboard.

She grabbed the mug and sprinted from her office. Outside, three stories below her office two white vans had parked just outside the the view of the building’s cameras. A group of eight men exited the vans and waited around the corner from the main entrance. One man stared at his watch, waiting for the hands to strike a specific time. The other men checked over their firearms one final time.

Abigail and Howard spoke as many old friends do. When she started at ISO-squared, Howard and his wife acted as a surrogate family to Abigail. Howard let out a cough and a laugh as Abigail reminded him of the time his daughter Ellie fell into the pool on her 22nd birthday.

The hands on the clock struck 9:47 and 32 seconds. The group of men rounded the corner as cameras lost their power and tilted downward, recording no more. The doors unlocked and the men quickly entered the building.

Howard laughed once more as he walked away from Abigail’s office and toward the security room.

She sat down in her chair and adjusted the lumbar support as she opened another document on her computer. She let out a large sigh as she lifted her mug for one drink before getting started. The lights in the office began to dim. She paused and looked around a moment. A burst of particles exploded next to her window. From it, a single bullet traveled the three feet from inside the glass to her head. Her body slammed to the side, dropping the coffee onto the keyboard. Her body fell from the chair and landed on the floor; her eyes staring beyond glass into the darkness outside.

Howard

Howard had worked for Industrial Science Operations Organization for 23 years as the night security guard. In his tenure, there had never been a break-in, never been any thefts from within, and certainly never been any deaths.

He whistled joyfully as he poured himself another mug of coffee. The lights dimmed and flickered for a moment. He paused only for a second to look at the yellowing fluorescents until they returned to normal power. Must be that new project down in the East Wing, he thought. Little did he know that one of his family’s closest friends now lie dead in her office. He replaced the coffee pot and walked over to his desk chair.

In what he liked to call, “the crimeless times,” he had stopped using the security monitors on his right computer screen. He picked up his newspaper and shook it once to unstick two pages. He let out a sigh and began reading the funnies.

The group of strangers, now working their way through the building had split into groups. A single man rode the slow elevator down to the security room. Another group headed toward another, more sophisticated security room. A third group headed for the main power terminal, while the final group made their way to the roof.

The lone thief stood patiently outside of Howard’s office door, staring at his watch.

Alpha Team approached the Security Control Center: the main hub of lockdown for the entire building. The leader swung his duffle bag around his shoulder and pulled out a compact crowbar, jammed it into the opening side of the door and began prying it open. He struggled for a moment until the magnetic locks released, nearly flinging the man back to the ground. The second man squeezed through the opening and began placing several remote controlled EMP devices on the main consoles of the office.

The leader squeezed through the door just as it began to close. The man with the EMPs pulled out a walkie talkie.

“Alpha, check.”

Bravo Team had been waiting for a minute and 37 seconds for Alpha team to check in. The walls of the main power room were covered in circuit breaker boxes. At the end of the narrow room sat two large switches that controlled the power to the entire building. Both men moved to the switches and placed their hands on the switches.

“Ready?” the first said to the second. The second answered with a nod. They pulled. No one passing the building from the highway would notice the sudden black out of the building.

Howard leapt from his chair tossing the newspaper. He moved as quickly as he could toward the door, his hand outstretched in the dark. As his hands flung the door open a gun barrel pressed against his forehead. The lone thief forced Howard backward, back into his chair.

“You won’t make it out of this,” Howard said, sternly.

“We already have,” the thief replied, and then slammed the back of Howard’s head with the pistol. His face fell and spilled his coffee on the keyboard of his computer.

“Charlie, check,” the lone thief said into his walkie. He placed the walkie on the desk and began zip tying Howard’s wrists.

The backup generators began to kick in, with it the SCC systems engaged. In the laboratory sectors motion sensors, laser grids and Halon systems kicked in.

Slowly, floor by floor the lights came back on.

The members of Alpha Team smiled at each other and began pressing the remote detonators on their EMPs.

The building shook.

Howard opened his blurry eyes. His head hadn’t hurt like this since ‘Nam. The lone thief was gone. Howard mustered any strength he had and started rolling his chair across the room. Blood dripped from the back of his head. The chair lightly bounced off the far wall. His vision had began to turn green and darkness crept in the sides of it.

With his elbow he knocked the red emergency phone off the wall. The line was programmed to automatically dial out, and it did what it was meant to do.

Tears started coming from Howard’s eyes, and his breath shortened. He knew it was the end. He hoped Abigail was safe. His last thought was of his wife, gardening.

Landon

Landon Daniels was born in 1982, the son of a farmer and a teacher. Every winter from the time he was six his father would take Landon deer hunting, but only after finishing his studies. By the time he started high school, Landon had met the girl he was sure he would spend his life with. He loved her, and she him.

Her father never like him, something about his father being an asshole and his mother a whore. Landon didn’t care. Two days before senior prom, the girl’s father decided to go for a drive. The drive last approximate 2.6 miles. The 1.3 to the bar, and the 1.3 home. However, the eight beers in between did nothing for the man’s already poor driving skills. He made the left turn onto Monroe Drive as he had done for years, but instead of braking, his foot slipped and slammed on the accelerator of the late 80s model Chevy pickup.

Landon’s girl would never know what had happened to her as her father’s truck exploded through her bedroom wall and killed her. She would never know that Landon had bought her a blue corsage for prom.

After graduating high school in 2000, Landon didn’t do much with his life. He worked at a local farm and feed store making minimum wage and living at home. Then September 11th happened.

He had never felt the strong pull of patriotism, but still felt something calling him to the Navy. After his initial four years of service, Landon did what it took to become a SEAL, but never succeeded in his training.

Soon after, his mother became ill. Landon left the armed forces and returned back to his small town in the middle of nowhere. Once his mother passed away, his father died shortly after.

He tried to bury himself in work, but had been out of the service too long. He was then approached by a private company, Vertical Intelligence Group.

The laser grids, motion sensors and Halon inside the laboratories of Industrial Science Operations Organization came to a screeching halt. The men of Alpha Team smiled at each other. They left the lobby of the SCC and began toward the stairwell that led down to the lowest sector of the lab.

Delta team had made their way through the tunnels of the building toward a ladder that led to the roof. The two of them hung off the ladder; the first one’s hand stretched down waiting for the second to hand up a pair of lock cutters.

“Come on,” the top thief shouted.

The lock cutters finally emerged from the bag and went up.

The top thief cut the lock and it plummeted, chain included, the forty feet to the concrete below. The lock cutters were handed down and then the top thief forcefully pushed open the trap door.

The top thief started climbing through the hole and was suddenly met with a kick to his face. He lost his grip as his head slammed against the trap door. He slipped down two rungs knocking the lower thief off the ladder; he fell five feet before being caught by a safety chain. He dangled and spun in the air a moment, his duffle bag spilling its contents to the ground below.

Landon, dressed in tactical gear, reached into the hole and pulled out the top thief, throwing him against the roof.

“Vasden, intel was correct. I’ve got two trying to exit through the roof.”

Samantha

Samantha Vasden was born Friday September 13, 1985 to a wealthy family in Seattle, Washington. From the time that she could read, Samantha was glued to books. She found endless wonder in the imaginations of others.

In school, her large-framed glasses often made her the center of negative attention. Her parents noticed Samantha’s oddly-high stress level for a child and forced her to do gymnastics. At first she hated it, but eventually became addicted to it. In the 9th grade, she slipped on the trampoline and fractured her ankle; ending her promising gymnastics career.

After a quick recovery, Samantha began running; taking her high school to state in 2003. She went Pre-Law at Yale, and continued running for fun. A decision her father would never understand. After graduating she was approached by Vertical Intelligence Agency.

“Rodger that,” Samantha replied as she flew down the highway in a black SUV. She pressed a couple of keys on the laptop between the front seats. “There are three more groups of them. I’ll update your VIG when I’m on site.”

“Hurry up,” Landon replied, his fingers pressed against the outside of his helmet.

Samantha pulled up to the front of the building, a single guard standing in front of the infiltrator's van. He was armed with a light machine gun.

She parked with the passenger side of the SUV toward the thief. The van surprised him as he lifted his gun and started making his way around his van.

“I’ve got an unexpected bogie down here,” she said.

Landon sprinted to the edge of the roof and looked over. “Remember your training?” He asked.

“Let’s hope so,” she responded, pulling a flare gun from the glove box.

After a deep breath, she climbed out of the SUV and rounded the front.

“Who are you?” the thief shouted down the barrel of his gun.

Without response, Samantha lifted her flare gun and fired it, hitting the thief directly in the torso. He fell back, machine gun firing as his clothes burst into flames.

“Nice,” Landon chimed in from the roof.

She swung open the passenger door to the SUV and flipped the laptop around.

“Looks like there are two of them in the lower labs, and another group is making their way toward you.”

“This must he their extraction point,” Landon said as he made his way back to the trap door. He looked into the hole.

The dangling thief spun slowly, unconscious. Landon dropped onto the ladder and grabbed the man. He slowly began lifting him up he ladder, his hands becoming sweaty inside his gloves.

“I’m not enjoying this, Sam.”

“You think this is a walk in the park for me?” She replied.

“I’ll trade you,” Landon laughed out.

“I’d take heavy lifting over the smell of this burning guy,” she said looking at the burning corpse in front of the van. “Your VIG should be updated with building schematics.”

“Did ISO-squared know they were going to be hit?” he asked as he uncoiled the safety chain from the thief and forced him the rest of the way out of the trap door,

“I don’t think so. Looks like two key cards are still currently activated inside the building,” Samantha said, “One Abigail Summers, ISO-squared developer. And a Howard Wills, building security.”

Landon stood at the edge of the building, looking down at Samantha.

The two men from the power room approached the ladder and stopped, seeing the pile of equipment from the dangling thief’s duffle. They began to climb. Near the top, the leader looked down to the other as he pulled out his handgun. The second pulled a flash bang from his duffle, pulled the pin and threw it up through the trap door.

Landon saw it just as it landed on the ground. “Grenade,” Landon shouted as he sprinted away and dove behind a large air conditioning unit. The grenade went off, throwing light across the rooftop. The leader climbed out of the trap door and immediately went to the aid of his fallen friends. The second man followed close behind and pulled a PDW from his duffle and began scouting the roof. As he approached the air conditioner, Landon pressed himself tightly against the edge, holding his breath and kneeling. The thief stopped just before turning to look around the corner.

“Almost ready,” Samantha whispered. She typed a couple more commands on her laptop, slammed her hand onto the enter button and then jumped back out of the SUV, flare gun in hand. She aimed it high into the air and squeezed the trigger. Nothing.

“Sam,” he whispered.

She panicked, flinging the glove box open and trying to open the chamber on the flare gun. “Reloading,” she shouted.

“What?” The leader asked, standing and moving toward the far edge of the building from Landon. The second thief turned around to inspect as well.

Landon reached around the corner of the air conditioner, grabbing the second man’s ankles and pulling his feet out from under him. His face slammed against the rough roof of the building. Landon pulled him backwards and with a single hit, knocked the man unconscious.

The leader still looked over the edge of the building. “There’s a woman down there… Oh God, Steve is on fire,” the leader shouted as he turned around to meet Landon’s fist. Landon caught the neck of the man’s shirt. And threw him to the ground. He tried to get back up but Landon kicked him across the face as he walked back to the trap door.

“Don’t worry about it Sam. Yelling is a good distraction too. I’m going in,” Landon said as he lowered himself onto the ladder.

Xander

Alexander “Xander” Steele no longer has any memories of his childhood. He joined Industrial Science Operations Organization in the fall of 2130. His legs had been blown off at the end of the Roman-United Nations war, and he had spent the six months before ISO-squared recruited him in a hospital bed. The CEO of the company had pulled many strings to bring Xander into the protection of ISO-squared.

All of Xander’s family had passed away during the New York District bombings, when the National Government of Roman Rule started the war. As a boxer in a local gym, Xander had faced bullies all his life, and the NGRR was just another bully waiting to have its teeth knocked in. He enlisted immediately and was quickly promoted to the Captain of his platoon. At the end of the war he had saved 30 men from a burning convoy, before the explosion that would change his life.

Once he arrived at ISO-squared he spent several months in a coma in the medical wing. Scientists spent almost every waking moment surrounding his body, running tests and mapping DNA. After the medical scientists finished, his data was sent on to the robotics lab. They worked tirelessly, trying to build Xander a new body. After many variations, the CEO forced his staff to make Xander appear as he always had. During the explosion a chunk of Xander’s brain had been damaged as the blast wave slammed him against the inside of an airborne Humvee.

The robotics and engineering departments worked tirelessly with the medical staff and bioengineers to stabilize Xander, to return him to his original state, but failed. The CEO didn’t mind this; instead he had more tests performed on Xander’s DNA. The 8th variation of a neural replicator, nicknamed ‘Heavy,’ by the scientists was placed into Xander. The NR-8, was designed specifically to communicate directly with the ISO-squared mainframe. The side effects were unknown, but of little worry to the science team who had just created history.

Xander’s body took the transplant well. After months of rapid healing, thanks to other technology developed by ISO-squared, Xander awoke. He was confused at first, but soon returned to his new feet. The CEO offered him the position of Advanced Security Lead. Xander accepted.

At the bottom of the ladder, Landon pulled his sidearm from its holster. He tapped quickly at the back of a flashlight attached to his vest.

“Sam, I’m in the lab. Directions?” Landon asked.

She typed quickly on the laptop, bringing up the building schematics onto the screen.

“Accessing the cameras, Landon,” she said as the monitors on the screen started to flicker. “It looks like there are two of them down in the lower labs, and a lone one in the offices.

“I’m heading to the offices.” Landon said, starting to move in that direction.

“Landon, Priority One is to stop the infiltration and find whatever they are after.”

“I’m aware of the P-O. But if there are civilians in the office, we need to make sure they are safe first,” Landon retorted, still moving toward the laboratory exit. “You’re either with me or against me.”

As the door from the lab opened, Landon’s gun extended through the open doorway.

“Doorway is clear,” Sam whispered through Landon’s headset. “The elevators were knocked offline when they blew the power.”

Landon holstered his gun and took off in a dead sprint toward the stairwell. He burst through the door and up the stairs. After the fourth flight, Landon hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Here comes the floor,” Sam said again.

Landon pulled his pistol again and burst through the door.

“The security room is to your right.”

Landon walked quickly to the door and pushed it open.

“Howard?” Landon asked. The door stopped as it bumped against Howard’s body.

“Samantha,” Landon paused, “Howard is dead. Where is the girl’s office?”

“Uploading the directions to your VIG now.”

Landon checked his VIG on his forearm. He lowered his pistol and took off again in a dead sprint, only pausing at corners to check if it was clear.

Samantha’s eyebrows furrowed as her screens began to flicker.

Landon slowed as the lights began to dim and flicker. “What is happening?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam said, troubleshooting furiously.

A burst of orange particles exploded in the hallway in front of Landon, vomiting out a human. The particles burned the walls of the hall as they faded away; leaving singe marks. Xander stood slowly, popping his neck. There was a moment of silence between the two, their eyes locked.

Landon quickly lifted his handgun, and by the time he had it aimed at Xander, it was knocked away. There was no time to react as Xander slammed his other hand into Landon’s chest, knocking him back.

Xander reached out grabbed Landon by his vest and lifted him into the air. Landon reached down and shoved his thumbs into Xander’s eyes. Xander threw him down the hallway. He skidded and rolled across the floor, inches from his five-seven. The gun slid into his hand with ease, and aimed quickly, firing at Xander’s knees.

The bullet pierced Xander’s knee, sending a spark into the air. Landon adjusted his aim, firing repeatedly into Xander’s torso. Sam jumped at the gunfire in her ear. Xander stopped, and fell forward, blood soaking the carpet and his dark shirt.

“Landon are you ok?” Sam’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Yeah…” He said as he pushed himself from the ground. He reloaded and then holstered his gun.

“What was that?” She asked, why he worked.

“I don’t know. I… I can’t explain it… But fuck, he was strong. Where is this girl’s office?” Landon asked, winded.

“Turn right ahead, and then your first left. It’s the second door on the right,” she paused, “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Landon didn’t respond. He continued, limping down the hallway, pausing only for a moment at Xander’s body. He shook his head and continued on.

He stopped at the door to Abigail’s office and knocked once. Then he pushed the door open and froze. His shoulder’s slumped down as he looked at Abigail’s corpse, resting in her computer chair, blood coming from her neck and pooled across her body and desk.

Walter

Walter Jones was born in the small town of Connis, Missouri. At the time of his birth the population in Connis was 25. He was the product of a one night stand with the local mechanic’s son, but his mother, Debra, never wanted him to know that. Instead, she lied to Walter and told him that his father was fighting overseas.

Debra would always cherish her son, pushing him to be the best he could be. In middle school, Walter began his obsession with science. He became an important part of the science team and participated in many competitions. Around the same time Debra lost her full-time job, and found work as a waitress at a nearby truck stop.

Ashamed of her new job, Debra took on additional work to maintain Walter’s expected lifestyle. He never noticed his mother’s sacrifice but she knew he would have appreciated it.

Throughout high school, Walter gathered and gained many scholarships. Three months before graduation Walter earned a full scholarship to MIT. He studied engineering. He called his mother every Sunday night and he would talk for hours while she listened and knitted.

Before graduation he was offered the position of laboratory coordinator at a small upstart science company, Industrial Science Operations. After starting at ISO, Walter stopped calling his mother. None of his friends heard from him.

Debra assumed he had just become overwhelmed with his work. Twelve years passed and she had grown tired and old. She got out of bed and dressed for work; on the way out of the house she checked the mail as she did every morning. The mail was the same as usual, bills, bills, junk, magazine, and then a simple white envelope with no sending address and no postage. The handwriting on the front looked familiar.

It was Walter’s. She dropped the rest of the mail and ripped open the envelope as quickly as she could. A small computer chip and a folded letter fell into her hand. She held the chip into the air, the fuse had been damaged. She had learned what they looked like from her son.

She opened the letter and began reading. It was from Walter. All it said was, “Things get better.” A check slid out from the bottom fold of the paper. She held it up and read the amount. Her eyes widened before rolling back. She collapsed and was late for work.

“Damn it. Samantha, the girl’s dead,” Landon said as he entered the office slowly.

Landon knelt next to Abigail, pulling his VIG from his wrist. He pressed the back against her forehead.

“Time of death, 9:51,” Samantha said through his earpiece.

He stood and placed the VIG back in its place. Landon closed the door as he left Abigail’s office. The lights began to dim again.

“Landon, it’s happening again,” Samantha said,

“I noticed,” Landon said as he made his way down the flickering hall. Suddenly, a palm grabbed onto the shoulder piece of Landon’s tactical vest. His head spun and was greeted by Xander staring him down.

“Oh sh….” Landon’s voice was cut out by a high pitch ringing.

Landon rolled backwards across the ground. He looked up at Xander, who threw Landon’s shoulder guard onto the ground. Landon felt his shoulder, his fingers brushing against the exposed wires from his biometric undersuit.

“Sam, we have a problem.” Landon said, to no one but Xander. A smirk crossed Xander’s lips. Landon pulled his sidearm, and fired quickly into Xander’s chest. The bullets fell to the ground as they bounced off Xander’s vest.

Landon aimed again, the barrel pointing at Xander’s face. He pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked; empty.

He shuffled backwards as Xander approached. He spun, pushing himself to his feet. The doorway frames lining the hallway passed him quickly as he sprinted; Xander not far behind him.

He glanced down at his VIG, it completely dark from the damage to his biometric suit.

He rounded a corner quickly, pulling directions from memory. Xander’s heavy footsteps getting louder in his ear.

Landon burst through the door into the stairwell, making his way back down to the lab. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped, pulling out his five-seven again, dropping the clip and reloading a new magazine from his holster’s pocket.

He waited a moment, hearing nothing in the stairwell.

How had that big guy followed him? He had killed him, right? Thoughts raced through his head. He’s hook his head as he pushed open the door, his gun still pointed at the stairs.

He holstered his gun and quickly made his way to a nearby engineers desk. He grabbed some spare wire, shredded off the shielding and began twisting it around the exposed wires from his biometric suit. As he started connecting the second end, the wire shot a spark off his shoulder, burning it slightly. After the final twist, power shot to the VIG, beginning it’s powering up process.

Several familiar icons appeared on the screen before his communications with Samantha began with a loud screech.

“Sam!”

“Landon, what happened?” she shouted.

“Not really sure, and there’s no time to explain. What’s going on with the PO?” He asked, wrapping the exposed wires in electrical tape.

“There seems to be a part of the lab that wasn’t effected by the power being blown out. Tracking heat signatures in the building it looks like there are two in the lowest level and a third on his way down there. Landon… Be careful.” Samantha said, her voice audibly shaken.

He let a deep breath, checked the map on his VIG and began making his way to the lower labs.

Two of the thieves stood outside a 6-inch titanium door, with triple pane pane bullet proof glass in the center of it. The number seven had been painted on the door in yellow paint.

They discussed how to get the door open, and neither could come up with an idea that worked. So they waited for the thief who had killed Howard.

By this time the police were well on their way, and Samantha would be taking on the role of staving them off. She typed furiously on her keyboard, hacking into the police call system. She pulled her VIG from her wrist and connected it to her laptop. She pressed a button on it and a phone screen appeared. She called the police, her VIG sending out the phone number from Howard’s phone.

She scanned a list of employee names, her eyes settling on the CEO’s.

“Hello, this is the secretary of CEO Walter Jones from Industrial Science Operations Organization. I was just informed that an emergency call was placed and I would like to cancel the police. It was a false alarm during training. Thank you. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

The sirens stopped echoing in the distance.

“Landon, I bought you some time.”

The lone thief approached his two remaining partners, none of them aware that the rest of the teams was either dead or unconscious.

“The door’s stuck,” one of the men said to the loner.

“Not anymore,” the loner said as Xander stepped from the shadows.

Xander approached the door, and without hesitation jammed his fingers into the opening side of the sliding door, bending the metal. The door whined for a moment, the glass splintered until Xander triggered the release. He pushed the door the rest of the way open without struggle. The thieves passed through, Xander behind them.

“Landon, I’ve got an alarm in area seven of the lower labs. Looks like all three of them.”

“What about the big guy?” He asked, clearing a corner.

“What big guy?”

“The one that chased me down the hallway, damaged my bio-suit. And I shot and killed earlier.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard the gunshots earlier? I killed that guy, and then after I found the girl, and the power went wonky again, he was back, and better prepared for me this time.”

Samantha checked her laptop again, “I don’t have anything. Just 4 heat signatures in the building.”

Landon continued on until he approached the destroyed door. After another deep breath and stepped through. The thieves and Xander were at the far end of the large laboratory. Landon ducked behind a table with random engineering tools on it. He moved closer.

The lone thief flipped a power switch, illuminating the room with hues of yellow and green. Landon’s eyes followed the lines from the switch to a palm sized device in the center of the room.

“Landon, that’s the PO. Secure it, and take no survivors,” Samantha said.

He raised his five-seven and fired once, hitting Xander in the back of the head. Xander’s eyes rolled back as his body slumped down. The two thieves turned to the body, the loner moving behind the device.

Landon fired twice more, hitting both thieves. One dropped dead, the other hit in the shoulder, stumbled back firing his MP-5 blindly across the lab. The lone thief fired a shot, killing his partner.

“Just you and me now, VIG operative 519,” the loner said.

Landon didn’t move.

“This is mine, and I’ll kill you if you try to stop me,” he paused as the power began to flicker and dim, “or, I’ll let him do it.”

Landon spun as a now helmeted Xander charged at him. He fired a shot, the bullet bouncing off his helmet. Landon jumped onto a steel table, trying to scramble across it. Xander grabbed his ankle, pulled him back, grabbed his vest and threw him across the room.

The five-seven spiraled across the floor. The loner came from no where and began kicking Landon.

Landon tripped the thief with his foot, grabbed his neck and slammed his head into the ground. The sound of shredding metal echoed. Landon looked with just enough time to roll away from and incoming table. He slid behind the device.

Xander approached slowly. Landon stood, placing his hand on the device.

“Sam, I’ve got the PO, but I’ve run into a bit of an….” A burst of particles exploded from the device. Landon vanished. Xander stopped and surveyed the damage. He let out a simple grunt and then held up his wrist. A holographic screen appeared, he selected a date and immediately vanished in another burst of particles.