Jericho stepped forward, taking the scope from him and holding it up to his right eye. “Jesus… that’s incredible!”
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Told you,” whispered Julie.
He handed the scope back and looked on the work bench at the other items on there. He was drawn to a handgun — dark gray in color and sleek in design. It resembled a Desert Eagle, fifty-cal, but bulkier.
“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to it with a nod of his head.
Dev chuckled. “That, my friend, is what we call The Negotiator.” He picked it up and racked the slide back. Then, with his finger hooked through the trigger guard, he flipped the gun around and presented the butt to Jericho. He took it without hesitation, feeling a professional excitement as he held the weapon in his hand, regarding it with an expert eye. It was a beautiful piece of hardware.
Having been born into the military, with a father that served, it was a genetic inevitability that Jericho would develop an affiliation with soldiering and combat. He believed that being a soldier was like any other trade — to be the best at it, you had to understand the tools you’d be using.
At a young age, he taught himself how to take apart, clean, and reassemble pretty much every type of gun. Then, he trained religiously, during both active duty and in his spare time, on how to use one effectively. The result being he was probably one of the most accurate shooters ever to serve.
The Negotiator he was holding was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He frowned as he examined it. The barrel was larger than normal pistols, having a separate, smaller barrel underneath the chamber, with space in front of the trigger guard for a miniaturized magazine. The butt, too, was larger in every way, but shaped ergonomically, so it fit comfortably into the palm of your hand.
“How does it work?” asked Jericho, eventually conceding defeat.
Dev took it back from him, pointing to it like a salesman. “Thumb print scanner on the grip,” he said. “Tailored to a single user. If it ain’t your gun, the trigger won’t depress. Same story if your thumb ain’t on the scanner, too. That’s your safety — just adjust your grip when you’re ready to shoot.”
Jericho raised his eyebrows, silently impressed.
Dev continued. “The gun fires standard nine mil’ parabellums from the main mag, but can also fire specialist rounds from an additional, smaller magazine attached to the secondary barrel. So far, we’ve got two types: a modified High Explosive Incendiary Armor Piercing round, and a developmental bullet that emits a low-level EMP on impact — useful for taking down security systems.”
“Very nice,” he said. “Can I have one?”
Dev laughed, turned, and opened a large box that was sitting on another table top behind him. Inside, resting in compartments cut into the lining, were three Negotiators. He picked up the box and presented it to the trio.
“Mr. Winters called ahead — said you all might be interested.”
Julie and Collins exchanged an excited look. Jericho placed the one he was holding on the table and smiled calmly as they were each handed their own, personalized gun. He noticed the small pad on the grip lit up blue when he gripped it.
“That’ll turn red for anyone besides you,” said Dev, not needing to be asked.
Julie stepped forward. She checked her weapon and found just a standard magazine was loaded. She chambered a round and looked at Jericho. “How good a shot are you?” she asked him. “I’m not working with someone who can’t shoot straight.”
“That’ll be a first,” smirked Collins.
Julie shot him a look. “I’m holding a loaded gun, asshole…”
Collins held his hands up, feigning shock. “Jerry, ya won’t let her shoot me, will ya?”
“Keep me outta this,” he replied, winking at Julie. “Take your shot,” he said to her. He nodded at the target at the end of the range. “Down there, not at him.”
She smiled back, took her aim, and fired, hitting just left and slightly higher than dead center.
“Not bad,” said Jericho.
He picked up a standard mag from the table next to him, taking a step forward as he slid it into his own weapon and worked the slide to chamber a round. He stood facing the target sheet, which was pinned to the wall roughly fifty feet in front of him.
Like lightning, he raised his right hand and fired once, shooting from the hip with no obvious preparation. Even with one eye, his bullet hit the target in the center, dead on, just to the right of Julie’s shot.
“Whoa!” said Collins. “Nice shootin’, Tex.”
Jericho turned and smiled at Julie. “Straight enough for you?” he said. Dev and Collins laughed. Julie simply continued to smile at him, an impressed look on her face.
“One more thing for each of you,” said Dev, pushing past Jericho and walking to another work bench just to the left of them. He held up a piece of material and ceremoniously handed it to Julie. He then picked up two more; one for each of the guys. “These are Tech Sleeves. You’ll notice a hard surface stitched into the lining on one side with the face of it showing, and a bracelet, of sorts, stitched onto the wrist. Slide them over your forearm, with the plate on the inside.”
They all inspected them dubiously, before pulling the sleeve over their left forearms. It reached almost to their elbows, and was made into a fingerless glove at the bottom end, with a hole cut out for the thumb. It covered the palm and knuckles. Jericho tapped the dark gray, plastic surface that was molded to the shape of his arm curiously.
Positioned around his wrist was a bracelet with numerous tiny holes in a semi-circle around the edge of the circumference on the inside of their arm. It had a watch face on it, set to the right time, and a single button on the outside edge.
“Press it,” said Dev, watching Jericho admire the technology.
He did, as the others looked on, intrigued. The small holes flashed into life, and the image of a touchscreen device was suddenly projected onto the hard surface. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a fully-functioning tablet.
“Nice…” said Jericho, distracted.
The others followed suit, equally stunned when their own Tech Bands did the same thing.
“That,” explained Dev, “is a state-of-the-art, portable projection computer. Inside the wristband is a transmitter and a two terabyte server chip. It piggy-backs the nearest cell tower signal, giving you access to all of GlobaTech’s networks while you’re out in the field.”
“These are great,” said Julie. “Thanks, Dev.”
“Yeah, appreciate the upgrades,” agreed Jericho. “And it was good to meet you.”
Dev smiled. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future.”
The three of them turned and headed out of the armory, back up the stairs and down the long corridor. Julie walked on ahead, as Jericho lingered, fiddling with the interface on his arm like a child with a new toy on Christmas morning.
Collins appeared next to him. “Hey, Jerry, d’ya think this thing can get porn?” he asked quietly.
Jericho closed his eyes with disbelief and laughed, but didn’t dignify the question with an answer.
They quickly caught up with Julie, just as she was stepping outside. They looked across the compound and saw Josh walking hurriedly toward them.
“All kitted out?” he asked as they approached.