The truck tore through the salvage yard. The primed and rusted hulls of doomed cars became little more than autumn underbrush as the truck picked up speed.

He took Deadbolt from his belt and triggered her extension. The pole snapped to its full four-foot length. He held the pole close to his body as the truck smashed through the chain-link fence of the salvage yard, and bounced from the curb and into the street violently. His DAS arms held onto the truck firmly, his grip at no point in question.

They had the attention of the bikers in the yard now but was too late for them. Unit 1 was upon them. Behind them, an APC stuffed full with SCPD’s finest began blaring its sirens.

He gripped the driver’s side assist handle as the t...

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