The onslaught ended, and the smoke slowly cleared, revealing the intruder. The barrage didn't budge him an inch. His armor was red no longer, but black: black with the flattened remains of the bullets that had been fired at him, clinging to the powersuit like a second skin. Disdainfully, he grabbed a handful of bullets and extended his hand toward the police as if making them an offer. Then, without waiting for a reply, he made a fist, crushing the bullets into powder, and let the dust float away.

The policemen stepped back as one unit while Botland brushed the bullets from his armor. They clanged against the floor.

"Is that all?" he asked. He motioned with one hand, and Crysilis and Streamline stepped through the door to flank him.

"Fire!" the commander yelled, a hint of panic in his voice. "Switch to pulseguns!"

But Streamline already started firing. He took out the front line of police officers with a stream of energy from his rifle. Bodies collapsed, and the police retreated, firing as they went.

The officers flipped the nozzles of their rifles around for pulse power and shot laserlike blasts at Streamline. But the heavily armored man kept dodging, always on the move, as if he possessed a second sense that alerted him to danger. He twisted and turned with astonishing speed, more like a machine than a human fighter.

He stopped suddenly in front of one officer and slammed the blunt end of his rifle in the man's face, then tumbled and spun through the others, so that no one dared fire for fear of hitting a comrade. But Streamline had no such concerns. He tripped another officer-a woman this time-and blasted her into a wall, then spun around and spat rapid energy from his rifle at a row of police still fumbling with their weapons.

Crysilis was faster still, a blur zipping through the blue room, all but unseen. Police collapsed as if struck down by a ghost. One bulged over, another had his face smashed in, and several were tossed in the air. The cyborg stripped the weapons from them, and one by one, they dropped to the ground.

To Crysilis, the police moved in slow motion. With his powers activated, he had plenty of time to spare. He found it amusing to draw faces on their helmets and trip them up. On a serious note, he redirected fire from hitting Streamline. But he wouldn't tell him that. Streamline had a certain level of pride he respected.

The red-suited leader didn't attack. He strolled down the middle, stepping over fallen bodies as casually as if he were sauntering through a park. He headed for the commander.

Sable aimed his gun and stepped back against the wall, knowing that he was next, that his weapon would be useless. Nearly fifty men wiped out, he thought, in as many seconds.

The last of the police officers, his gun overheated, staggered but pulled out a knife and lunged at Streamline. He was met by Streamline's fist in his face, and his body twisted to the ground.

Seeing his work was done, Streamline positioned his Omega Blaster over his back. Crysilis appeared beside him, and they walked to Botland's side.

The police commander had watched video footage of them breaking into the building, so he'd known they were a threat. But this powerful? he thought. He had ordered his officers to this training room so they each had a multipurpose pulsegun, but their weapons didn't even scratch the trio. He took solace in one thing: These intruders didn't kill his men-not when they entered the building and not now, either. They had used concussion energy blasts and brute force to knock them out. He knew that whatever happened to him, his life would be spared.

Sable stared at the human-looking figure in red and was about to speak when the intruder flashed up the dais steps, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the wall, yanking him up with a fierce grip.

"Where's Morphaal?" Botland yelled.

Below is Vecto in his new body!