"Finally, welcome to the control area." Quinn led the military personnel to the equipment storage area and introduced it enthusiastically. "This is where we design, assemble, and use this technology to build the most advanced systems available today."
"Ladies and gentlemen." Quinn walked over to a humanoid device. "This prototype can replace a soldier's prosthetic limb within minutes. It's ten times more powerful than previous models and fully networked with the soldier's biometrics and optical targeting system."
"If you want to convince me to make the United States government pay for this, I need specifics." The leading general spoke, utterly disdainful of Quinn. He was just a wanted opportunist with little real capability—hardly worth expecting much from.
"Specifics." Quinn snapped his fingers. "Specifically, I want to build a great many of these machines, expand our surgical department, and produce a hundred soldiers every day."
"To join our special forces?"
"No, to replace them. The Navy SEALs, the Secret Service." Quinn spoke brazenly, drawing hostile looks from several generals.
"Gentlemen, we know the world is full of crises right now. What we offer you is security."
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions suddenly rang out from outside, followed by the laboratory's alarms.
"What's going on?"
"It's just a drill. This place is safe," Quinn immediately explained. "There's nothing to worry about."
"Tell us exactly what's happening outside." The general spoke coldly, with a trace of anger in his voice. "Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your government contract!"
"Gentlemen, I ask that you—"
Quinn lowered himself, about to make up an excuse, when Garrett walked in with Ward and the Death Warrior, Mike Peterson.
"Don't beg them, Quinn.
You're not a dog. We don't need their scraps."
"Who is this?"
"John Garrett, our... strategic consultant."
The general gave him an indifferent glance and