Chapter 30 (YEAR 2052)

Report: Quinn

The edge of a dried sea.

Russia.

Decommissioned nuclear facility.

Designation: 'Lighthouse'

I could hear explosions outside-loud, thunderous detonations that I didn't so much hear as feel in my bones. By now I should have been used to explosions, as they were quite common in my line of work. Still, the sound in my ears and the pressured feeling in my chest told me that only danger awaited below. I loved it.

I slid into the mech's pilot seat with a sigh of delight and moved to run my hands through my hair, an old stress-induced habit I'd recently resumed. Of course, I found almost nothing; my new brown crew cut didn't offer much to touch.

My fingers brushed up against something solid embedded in the nape of my neck.

An IRON chip, stolen from its American manufacturers. It was about the size of a dime.

I settled my hands back on the controls of the mech and waited. It was likely only a few seconds, but it felt like hours.

The sleeve of my jumpsuit caught on the co