Bab 45: The Terminator

Time passed, and immediately ten minutes hit the mark, Durion spoke.

"Alright, two minutes on the dot. It's my turn."

Downing a glass cup of alcohol, Durion cracked his neck, and inhaled deeply.

Micro led lit up from the line of his synthetic skin as his cyberwares hummed to life.

Tearing off his formal cloth to reveal something of a swim suit mad of subdermal fibre underneath.

He turned towards Michael with a grin. "Be a good choom, aiit?"

Michael nodded his head, knowing Durion's mission was the most important part, he responded. "Good luck."

"Who needs luck when I'm all chromed up?"

Durion chuckled then the ground base of the vehicle before Michael's leg slid open, revealing the tiled ground of Tzkomani Corp underneath the vehicle.

Durion's body produced a few mechanical noises as his cybernetic arm and legs changed form.