squad with bursts of heavy metal. Every hit minimized my chances of success, every miss necrotized the president’s lung tissue. Hawkins caught the SIMON across the neck with a plasma blade, and its head floated away, twisting slowly toward the vein he had just entered. The infrastructure was in shambles. Before we disconnected and jumped out of our suits, I shot myself up to the SIMON’s torso and eyed the inscription on its chest. SpecBot.
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