Harrington was dismissed with a flick of Shwartz’ hand. The vidwall mocked him by showing nothing of importance. How he now lived vicariously through the wall depressed him so utterly. He looked down at his chrome plated self, tiny exposed motors and gears moving with impeccable dexterity.

He focused on the man-machine boundary, the riveted border between what he was, flesh, and what he had become, cyborg. He wore no clothes, no need at this stage. His physical prowess was untested but significant as he packed hidden phaser ports in his left hand and an array of cutting edge defenses. They all seemed useless since no one had entered his personal space in years.

“Into action we go Gloria!”

“Sir?” Came back the female voice.

“Let’s see how far we can push the local authorities. Initiate Under Attack now, please.”

“As you wish.”

A phony distress alarm went off in the penthouse immediately alerting USNE LawEn. Fake details included a doctored video stream of a squad of attackers.

“Help! Rescue me…”