by Collin Earl
*****
A ragtag bunch of men and women with seriously antiquated equipment checked their weapons as they drove cautiously in a series of street vehicles. No nationality or even gender could be determined, as each person wore masks of presidents of the former United States.
In the front seat of the first vehicle a particularly burly individual spoke into a shortwave radio. "We just got word from our guy inside. MESA has come in strong. We might encounter S&D. We've got to get in, gather what intel we can, and get out. No dicking around or a lot of people are going to get hurt."
"Washington, sir," came a voice from the back of the black transport, "how are we supposed to find whatever it is we are looking for? We have no idea what MESA is after."
"We've been over this, Nixon. We don't know exactly what MESA is after, but the underground chatter is way up. MESA's in some kind of corner. They are desperate. Something is going down today at Academy City 676. Something big. This could be our chance, so don't screw it up. Palin, be careful with that tech flow cell. They might be old, but those high-energy fusion rounds can be nasty."
"Yes sir."
Washington put his radio back up to his mouth. "ETA five minutes. Beck, Johnson, Wilson – ready the blast core and muffle drum. Palin, you're on point. Let's go find Teddy."
