A nondescript white panel van pulled to the curb before the plaza fronting the dome-topped building. From the front passenger seat emerged a figure of imposing height clad in a pouch-festooned military load-carrying vest over T-shirt, BDU pants, and tactical boots, all of them in desert tan. Even this outlandish ensemble, however, was less startling than the woman in her mid-forties who wore it. Buzz-cut platinum blonde hair surmounted a bronze face half-covered with scars, and a dun eyepatch, on the left side. Her six-foot-tall body seemed lean but powerful—aside from her right arm, which was missing entirely. In its place she bore a current-generation prosthetic that made no attempt to hide its artificial nature, opting instead for a sleek, streamlined look.