The high-pressure lift at the northern end of Proving Grounds Four ground upward with a metal screech. From the pit emerged Vincent Sterling, escorted by four corporate handlers clad in the silver-and-cyan livery of ApexBio.
Vincent was nineteen, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, wearing polished composite armor that gleamed under the gray morning sky. Unlike the poor cadets of the outer wards who patched their uniforms with scrap canvas, Vincent wore an officer-grade cuirass inlaid with micro-high-pressure steadying channels. At his side trotted Gore-Piston, a four-hundred-two-pound Iron-Ridge Boar that had undergone extensive wired enhancement.
The boar’s natural skull had been shaved and capped with a tiny shell of cold-rolled silver-steel alloy. Dual air-powered pistons were bolted along its neck spine, connected by heavy braided steel hoses to a backup steam pump mounted above its shoulders. Its tusks had been replaced with twin curved spikes of hardened heavy dark metal-hardened carbon-iron, venting faint wisps of overheated high-pressure fluid with every rhythmic breath out.
“Watch closely, stray-lover!” Vincent called across the sand, his voice echoing off the granite tiers. “ApexBio building doesn’t rely on sewer luck. We build power from the bone up!”
In the high box, Julian Vance rested his chin on his palm. His knuckles remained white against the grip of his dueling spatha, his eyes cold and unmoving. He watched Vincent take position.
