He froze, not daring to move a muscle as his back was pressed flat against the wall.   Beneath his mask, a drop of sweat mingled with snot and gathered on the underside of his nose.   He tried desperately not to sniffle.   It was infuriating, like an itch on the arch of your foot when you`re laced up in combat boots; the only way to deal with it is to remove the shoe, which was seldom a viable option.

       His eyes were locked upon the security camera, mounted on a street lamp, slowly completing its arc.   His ears strained to hear even the slightest hint of an approaching guard.   He held his breath.   He had to remind himself that, even though it hadn`t been field tested, it was put through the paces in the lab.   It would work.

       He waited until it was pointing directly at the doorway when he finally moved– stepping into full view of the camera.

       No alarm sounded.

       Tentatively, he waved a hand towards the machine, which seemed oblivious to his presence and continued its watch over the night.

       He looked down at the dark suit he wore appreciatively.

       "I`ll be," he said, kneeling to pick the lock.


*~*~*~*~*

Ten Hours Ago

*~*~*~*~*

"It`s called project ZMB-250," said a white-haired, mustachioed man. He dropped a manilla envelope onto the table.   "Outside of the R&D team, twelve men know about it. You make thirteen."   He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, bit off the end, and began rummaging around for his lighter.

       The man he was addressing– younger, although already past his prime– opened the envelope and began looking at its contents.   "What`s the codename?"

       "Doesn`t have one," the other man replied, lighting the cigar and taking a puff of it.   "We work with numbers.   Codenames tend to leak and just attract attention.   Call something `Nightshade`, it screams military ops. Use a serial number, it looks clerical."

       "It didn`t seem to work this time."

       The mustachioed man frowned as the cigar dangled out of the corner of his mouth.   "That was because the previous number thirteen was on the payroll of some syndicate– we`re not sure which– and thought he`d make a little money on the side."

       The younger man continued looking through the files.   "So, what does 250 do?"

       "It`s a stealth device.   It has various applications, but we`re primarily employing it in suits and armor.   It`s not perfect– doesn`t do a blasted thing optically– but, it`s sure as heck one of the best resourses we`ve got right now."

       "What does it shield from, if not optics?"

       "Electronics," came the reply.   "In one of these suits, you`re invisible to everything but the naked eye.   Cameras won`t register you, neither will thermals.   Your heartbeat will be suppressed, so will your breathing.   X-rays are useless.   The only danger a person would face is from actual human beings, and believe me, we`re working on that, too."

       "And it was stolen?"

       "Core components were," the man answered with a grunt.   "Nothing to set us back, but if the technology enters the market, it will be virtually useless.   Security systems would be able to reverse engineer it and plug the holes it exploits. I don`t even want to imagine what industrial thieves could do with it."

       The younger one dropped the envelope back on the table.   "What do you want me to do?"

       "Find it," the white-haired man said.   "Then, either bring it back or destroy it." He gestured off to the side, towards a triple pad-locked steel container.   "It`ll give you the opportunity to field test one of the 250 suits."

       "Understood."

       "I`ve heard good things about you, Itica," he said, rising, "Pull this off and there may be a place in our organization for you."

       "What organization would that be, General?" Itica asked.

       The man grinned as he puffed his cigar.   "We`ll cross that bridge when we come to it.   Dismissed."


*~*~*~*~*

Now

*~*~*~*~*

He was hidden from view again, pressed into a corner behind an open door.   Out in the hall, a watchman was strolling along his route, occasionally looking around.   The portable TV he held in his hand commanded most of his attention, however, to Itica`s benefit.

       The intel on the operation had been sketchy, but they had one benefit.   Defying all conventional wisdom, the lab had made ZMB-250 traceable.   An insurance policy, they`d described it.   He`d had to keep the incredulity from his voice when he asked them to repeat they`d stuck a tracer in a stealth suit.   Of course, he`d had to admit that it had come in handy.   With it, he could be led right to his objective.   It also, he remembered, allowed big brother to watch him.

       There was a radio in his ear which allowed the general to contact him during the mission... and to criticize, if need be.

       Itica slipped out of his hiding place when the watchman turned the corner, continuing down the hallway to the stairwell.   An elevator would be faster, but all it would take was one unexpected stop to end the mission.

       He tapped the side of his mask and, beneath it, a tiny screen slid in front of his left eye.   He wasn`t sure how the tech guys had made it focused, but he didn`t much care, either.   He didn`t need to know how things worked to use it.

       A small dot on the screen blipped, sending out little radar ripples.   That was his target and he was getting close.   It was a wonder this syndicate didn`t have better security beyond a few overweight night watchmen and some security cameras.

       He crept out into another hallway when he reached the floor he wanted.   It was strangely designed, as the hall merely served as an entrance for a vast room in the center of the building.   There were a few cubicles, but mostly it was open space.   His eyes were immediately drawn to the blue light illuminating the darkness, a lone computer screen.   Hunched over it was a disheveled person in ratty clothes, seemingly lost to the world.

       A quick check of his mask confirmed that the suit component was over there.   Not taking any chances, he circled around the hall so that the person`s back was to him.   Slowly, he crept forward, trying not to make a sound and hoping the general`s boasts about the 250 suit suppressing heartbeats was accurate.

       He slipped his gun from its holster as he reached the cubicle, painfully aware of how visible he was.

       Without taking a second to pause, he jabbed the gun into the back of the person`s head.   "Don`t move," he said, quietly.

       Wordlessly, the man stopped typing and raised his hands.   Far too calmly for Itica`s tastes.   He pressed the gun against his head harder.   "Where`s the component? Who are you working for?"

       The man still said nothing.   Something wasn`t right here.   "Answer me," Itica commanded.

       The man`s silent answer was broken by an elevator chime and a whistling watchman.   Taken by surprise, Itica jerked towards the elevator as the watchman expressed shock and began fumbling around for his gun.

       Seizing the opportunity, the ratty man darted to the side and struck Itica`s gun hand.   The handgun went flying across the room as the ratty man bolted towards the stairwell.   Muttering a curse, Itica dove after his gun, just managing to avoid a shot from the watchman that sent the computer erupting into sparks.

       Itica`s hands found his gun and he came up, quickly getting off a shot and sending the watchman to the floor with a shoulder wound.   He hoped the man wasn`t dead, but couldn`t waste time.   He darted towards the stairwell after the man with his component.

       Through the doorway he had just enough time to see the man leap into the air and drop down through the space between the railings.   He shot forward and gazed down as the man fell and hit the ground running.   "Aw, cripes," he said. With that drop, it meant he was dealing with either an android or a cyborg.   He hated both.

       He quickly grabbed a small grapple from his belt and fastened it on the top railing before he, too, jumped into the space between the rails.   His descent was fast and uncontrolled until right before the bottom, at which point he activated the clamp and slid to the ground unharmed.   He pushed the button that detached the line from his belt, not having the time to retrieve it.

       He ran forward, heedless of both cameras and guards now.   He didn`t have the time to deal with them.   The android was on the run, which meant he`d be looking to get as far away from the building as possible.

       Androids.   What syndicate was this?

       He crashed through the door and ran out into the parking lot where he`d tested the 250 suit.   The android was already running down the street.   With a short intake of breath, Itica continued his pursuit.   Out of habit, he checked his mask`s display as he ran, just to make sure he wasn`t chasing a decoy.   The tiny blip confirmed that he wasn`t: the android had it.

       He was fast, too.

       Then, the chase hit a busy street.   Itica glanced up to find the sun already rising– morning commuters.   Without breaking stride, the android leapt onto the foothold of a passing semi-truck northbound towards Guardia.   Itica didn`t have time to see what kind of cargo it was carrying, he just started running for the trailer.   Unfortunately, the android had had too much of a head start and, even with the slight pause that came when he threw the driver out of the truck, he was too far ahead.

       Not to be thwarted, Itica jumped onto the hood of a passing car and kicked in the windshield, shoving his gun at the driver.   "Follow that truck!" he yelled.

       Too scared to think, the driver of the car simply floored it and was lucky he was headed in the right direction.

       Barking more commands, which the driver somehow managed to follow, the car slowly caught up with the truck and was within jumping distance of trailer.

       Itica rose to stand on the hood, reaching out for the trailer. With a final jump, he grabbed hold of it and steadied himself, working his way toward the roof.

       Determinedly, he crawled on his belly along the roof of the trailer, ignoring the roaring wind around him.   The blip was still there, he hadn`t lost yet.

       He dropped down into the space between the trailer and the truck.   The driver was visible through the back window.

       He swung out beside the drivers door, but, curiously, the android didn`t seem to notice him.   Fine by me, Itica said. He unholstered his gun and brought it up.   The second he`d done it, though, the androids hand shot out the window and batted the gun away.   Its line of vision followed the firearm as it bounced down the road, then returned to his front.   It again ignored Itica.

       What the heck is going on?

       He shifted his position, looking for some reaction, but none came.   He tried whistling, and while the android`s head turned, it just as quickly turned back.   Cautiously, Itica stuck his hand in front of the androids face and waved it up and down.

       Nothing.

       Itica frowned, then would have raised an eyebrow had he not been wearing a mask.

       The suit.

       The android`s eyes were little more than cameras.   They couldn`t see him.   But, the gun... the gun was standard issue.   It wasn`t covered by the ZMB-250 tech.   It could see the gun, which was why it reacted.   Which was why it ran rather than stay and deal with him.   It couldn`t see him.

       He looked over his shoulder and took stock of their location.   Somewhere along the way they`d entered a bridge.   Possibly the Zenan, he couldn`t be sure.   There was water, though.

       He used his mask to locate the component, but couldn`t isolate it.   More than likely the android had it inside of him, which meant destruction was the only solution. He could reach for an explosive, but it was standard issue, as well.   The android would see it before it could be armed.   Something more drastic was in order.

       He waited for a break in the cars, then reached inside to grab the wheel.   With a jerk, he sent the truck careening off the side of the bridge as the android fought to regain control.   Trusting the fall to keep the android occupied, Itica snatched some grenades off of his belt, pulled the pins and dropped them into the cab.   Then, pushing off with his legs, he dove away from the falling truck.   The shockwave of the explosion a few seconds later catapulted him even farther away.

       As the water rushed to meet him, his last thought was that he hoped he survived this.


*~*~*~*~*

He wasn`t sure how long he was out, but he reasoned it couldn`t have been too long as smoke still filled the air, accompanied by the sound of wrecks on the bridge.   Cars swerving to avoid the truck, no doubt.   Again, he hoped people were okay but he knew he`d never bother to check.   That sort of thing could only weigh a man`s conscience down, especially in his line of work.

       He glanced down, realizing that the ZMB-250 suit acted as a lifepreserver of sorts, keeping him afloat.   He tapped his mask, activating the mini-screen again and looked for the telltale sign of the component, but the screen was empty.   No blip.

       The headset in his ear crackled to life.   "Major Itica, this is General Saunders.   What`s your situation?"

       Itica tapped the mask again, activating his comm unit.   "This is Itica, General.   The target has been destroyed.   I`m ready for pick-up."

       The responding voice sounded pleased.   "Good work, Major," it said.   "Get back to Porre."

       With a sigh, Itica leaned back to float in the water.   It had been a long day.   As he bobbed there, he just looked up.

       The sun was out.