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screaming. She had laughed at me and told me to man up. Then she made out with her boyfriend. I remember her screams and I just don’t feel anything.
    Terrie’s mom is even dressed up with a low-cut top and clinging clothes so she looks good for the media. Her husband is probably at work brokering another multimillion-dollar deal and having the company lawyers figure out some other way to make my life hell.
    I just look at her and can’t do or say anything. I hear her words over the rest of the mobs. “You fucking bastard! You killed my little baby! She never did anything wrong! You tried to make her and her friends into the bad guys, but I know the truth! You should burn in hell with the rest of your scum family!”
    The crowd almost seems to pull back and there are cameras everywhere zoomed in to see this confrontation, and all I can do is stand here with my hands out looking like a stunned cow. What do I do?
    At point-blank range I can see that her makeup is running while she cries, which it never did before. I guess she wore something that would run to look even better for the cameras.
    She is pointing a finger in my face and she is just screaming. Then her other arm comes up and I can see a letter opener slide into her hand from up her sleeve. She is stabbing it at my throat and we are so close I still can’t do anything.
    She is going to stab me and try to kill me because of her bitch daughter.
    An arm comes in from the side behind me and catches her hand less than a foot from my throat. That hand stops and she and I both just stare at it.
    Then that gripping hand bends her stabbing hand in a way that hands are not meant to bend when connected to an arm.
    It seems like everyone should be able to hear the loud snap. If they can’t hear the snapping of her wrist, then I know they can hear her truly piercing shriek as her hand is bent at an impossible angle.
    That gripping hand releases her and disappears, taking the letter opener with it. Her arm drops a bit and she is holding the damaged arm with her other one. Then, two shields come out of nowhere and she is body-checked away from me and mashed up against other protesters.
    I hear a voice yelling, “…under attack! GO GO GO!” Then the small circle of police raise their shields and take off at a run, pushing everyone away and body-checking those who are slow. We are heading at a run for the back of the armoured vehicle and everyone scatters away from us.
    Just as we get there the back door opens, the police stream around the back and form a wall of shields while the lead suit leaps in and then grabs me and pulls me inside while the other two suits push.
    I am sprawled on one of the bench seats while the other two suits board. The back door slams shut and then the vehicle heads off at high speed. I would have been thrown to the floor if one of the suits had not kept a solid hold on me.
    They help me sit up and clip in to the five-point harness seatbelt.
    I look at the leader with a question on my face. He nods and says, “You can speak now while we are in here.”
    I find myself shaking from adrenaline. She wanted to kill me and tried it. The only reason that I am not dead was because the suits were faster and stronger.
    I look at the leader. “Why did that all happen back there?”
    He stares at me for a moment. “You had no access to any media while you were inside during the trial, correct?”
    I nod. He continues by pulling out a pad and flicking it on and setting it to a news channel. “Check this out.” I stare at the screen and watch archived footage of my arrest and everything up to our departure from the facility just now.
    I look at the suit and have to ask. “That’s a lot of information. Why did you get this all done?”
    He finally takes off his sunglasses. His face is still expressionless and he has brown eyes. “You work for the Corporation now. Every bit of data was collected and collated to verify that you would be a worthwhile candidate.