<span style="color: #4000FF">"Karina, there is an electrical disturbance in security. "</span>Casey says in a monotone barely moving from his over watch of the rail yard. His gaze moves this way and that until it comes to rest on his pride the Black Bullet. His mind's eye didn't see the rail yard as he looked over it, instead it saw his distant memories living again. He remembered before the Black Bullet being the CIA cyborg assassin falling from favor rescuing a man associated with Hitler's Nazi party from German death row. He remembered his time in the special forces traveling down a dusty dirt road and being almost killed in an IED explosion. He remembered the camaraderie in his armor unit in the early days of the Iraq war and losing all of his friends on his darkest day fleeing the battle firing a fifty cal with tears in his eyes. He remembered picking up the pieces and carrying on to go through Special Forces Selection to his wife's disapproval. He remembered waking to his brother by his side asleep in a hospital with his wife's wedding ring on the table and after being released from the hospital visit her grave with the divorce papers in his hand. All of these things and more spun in his mind as he looked on blindly on for minutes. Mongrel had been gone a little bit when a large figured man in a neat clean suit with a stony gaze and a strong voice said after approaching the table,<span style="color: #BF8000">"Is this seat open?"</span><br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF00FF">"Yeah of course. They would love to meet another super."</span>Sabina said excitedly seeming to have totally forgotten Kira turning into an explosive  rage monster a second ago. She turned to Kira to see her mood and undauntedly followed with,<span style="color: #FF00FF">"We can totally stop at your house to drop off your bag. My parents' house is just down the road!"</span><br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Among many rows of mostly derelict tanks baking in the California desert. The military radio channels were buzzing with an imaginary war from nearby Fort Irwin as two divisions duked it out with lasers preparing for a war that might never come. One tank sat sealed since its final fight in Iraq in almost pristine mechanical condition except for its unit markings which had faded during the decade and a half it had sat. Its crew presumed to be entombed inside and none one wanted to disturb their slumber. Its electronics clicked to life spontaneously and its crew awoke from a daze. They attempted to escape their metal coffin and inaudibly banged on the hatches until they realized that it was futile.<span style="color: #FF0000">"Driver, get us out of here. We need to find Corporal Norton!"</span>The driver affirmed the command of his platoon sergeant and started up the engine of the tank going through the motions. The jet engine whirred up spinning up allowing the tank to clatter forward out of the row of its dead brethren. The tank to a left turn proceeding to the closest edge of the tank graveyard. It clattered and whined past a pair of mechanics sitting on another tank eating their lunch. They dropped their sandwiches and ran to the service depot as the runaway tank made for the fence and crashed through it.<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"What seems to be the problem here."</span>Mongrel asks in a flat commanding tone. Her lower pair of arms were on her hips with her top arms crossed in front of her with her legs apart with one in front of the other giving her a fighting stance. She towered over everyone in the room as the lights flickered. She had overheard the heated interchange between the enigmatic passenger and the station counter terrorism branch of security. She had often wondered how curbing international terrorism with the second patriot act required a passport check for domestic rail service but she didn't care enough about politics to question it.