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entire project is stuck in Malcolm Weir’s brain and I’ve got Gauss down there trying to kill him?”
    Every head in the room snapped back to the events playing out in monochromatic gray on a tiny Sony brand monitor. Kiesling pushed Anderson out of the way as he started screaming into the tiny white communications unit security chief Doherty had given him, “Stand down! Stand down! Gauss, abort!”
    Kiesling was too late as an irresistible force slammed into an immovable object, and the explosive result shattered windows in the top twenty floors of the US Bank Building, throwing the heads of Project: Hardwired to the floor.
    He had recovered just enough to see a very naked and very unconscious Malcolm Weir falling past his office window, surrounded by a rain of broken glass and wreckage.
    With his once promising future political career flashing before his eyes, Gordon Kiesling rushed for the most powerful weapon at his disposal, the telephone, and began the most important case of damage control in his life.
    “Get me the Secretary of Defense…”

CHAPTER 4
     
    Falling to his death from the seventy-second floor of the tenth tallest building in the United States resulted in a not-so-surprising epiphany about himself: Malcolm Weir hated heights.
    The only thing Mal hated even more than heights at that particular moment was the fact the new computer he found himself implanted with was informing him that he was currently traveling at nearly 80 miles per hour after approximately five seconds of falling; that he had already fallen about one hundred and fifty feet, give or take; and, finally, that he would reach terminal velocity right as his body impacted, leaving what he could only assume would be a rather messy smear on the immaculately kept gray stone tiled courtyard just outside the US Bank Tower’s main entrance.
    Being nude was, of course, just icing on the cake.
    Recognizing no amount of cybernetic enhancements were going to allow him to survive a seventy-two story fall, being too far away from the structure of the building to even attempt to grab on to the ledge, and realizing none of the magical flagpoles Daredevil or Batman used in the comic books were going to materialize and save him, Mal angled his body towards the ground and used it like an airfoil in an attempt to make it into one of the windows. While the action would increase his airspeed and decrease his time to ground impact, and a collision with the side of the building in excess of 100 miles per hour would probably kill him just as quickly, the battered and bruised Army Ranger saw no other options.
    Hurricane winds tore at his flesh and made his eyes tear up. The wind-induced blindness threw off his aim, caused Mal to miss a 30th floor bank of windows and slam with sense-shattering force into the concrete and steel outer wall instead.
    Mal was sent spinning uncontrollably out into the abyss between buildings, but was able to stay calm enough to correct his course and try again.
    As the man approached the building’s side once again, his mind fired off a prayer and reached out with the segmented chrome weapons that now replaced his arms.
    The ground rose up quickly to meet him and Mal knew this was his last chance and his only hope of survival.
    “No!!” screamed Mal as his right hand missed a lip by mere inches. He instinctively reached out with his left out in a reflexive attempt to grab on, knowing full well he was still too far away.
    A fire in his shoulder and chest caught the man by surprise. The electrical hum that had been present in his new limbs increased to painful proportions and Mal’s eyes went wide at what he saw happening.
    Within the blink of an eye, his left arm shot out, elongating to nearly 6 feet in length and caught the ledge, which had been rushing out of sight an instant before, titanium-steel fingers digging deep into the hard shell of the US Bank Tower.
    Mal was never so relieved to have his nose broken from the momentum of