Along a narrow dirt road that stretched along the expanse of a forest, a hummer—black with no distinguishing marks—drove silently. The night sky provided sufficient cover as tires rolled smoothly along the dirt. Headlights beamed through the dark to reveal the way to the hummer's destination. When they past the checkpoint, the lights were switched off, and the drivers applied their night-vision goggles. With them, they wouldn't need headlights to see the rest of the way.

They were only a few miles out from their base of operations where all their work to bring down their oppressive regime bore new fruit every day. Their latest acquisition would prove to accelerate their goals to the promised day, where their sacrifices would be honored. Until then, they were to curb their excitement in exchange for focus. There would be plenty of time to celebrate; but duty always preceded pleasure. Coming to a stop, they exited the vehicle to continue on foot.

Hiding it under a camo tarp amongst the shrubbery, they proceeded along a dirt path, the wind ensuring their prints would be forgotten by morning. There were only four of them to a hummer, which guaranteed accuracy in evasion. Rifles ready to be fired at the slightest disturbance and with the quickest reflex, there was little for them to fear. Still, precaution was a constant when living in their world. Soon enough, their journey came to a halt when they found themselves before their newly appointed leader.

Dark eyes appraised them through the darkness, judging their validity and conviction; it had been this way since the changing of power. Their former leader had fallen to madness and nearly crippled their operation. It had taken nearly a year but they had returned in full force; today marked a new day for them. From the darkness, others emerged with tools prepared to scan for anything no true soldier would be carrying. To match the dark eyes, a voice, rich as molasses, spoke, "We're you followed?"

"No, sir," they replied in unison.

They dropped their weapons, spread their legs shoulder-length apart, their arms an equal distance, and stood perfectly still. They were padded down, had detection devices run along their body and briefly removed masks to provide saliva for DNA and retinal scans. These new measures were put in place to avoid infiltration. Once it was determined they were themselves, the figure did an about-face and walked off into the darkness. Gathering and readjusting their gear, they followed.

"Our latest acquisition has proven to be most deadly in the trial phase," stated the leader. "We now possess the sufficient amount of data of its practical use. The only way to know for certain would be to launch a field test. Once we have the location set-up, we can transfer all our equipment and locate a suitable target."

"A military base, sir?" one of them suggested.

"Perhaps, but we must ensure civilian casualties are avoided," he replied. "The people are our backbone. If they turn against us, we lose our chance for change and the debacle Bishop started will be complete."

"Understood," they replied.

They passed several checkpoints, going through the proper channels each time, enduring cavity searches just to prove their identities are valid. Some had protested these supposed "violations" only to be met with extermination. They could see the need for tightened security; their numbers had dwindled thanks to the fall of their progenitor. It would be easy for the government to replace one of them with a trained imposter to bring them down from the inside. That was how "terrorists" were dealt with after all.

But they were not terrorists, they were revolutionaries seeking a desired change in the status quo that left in a perpetual state of delusion. Passing the final checkpoint and suffering one final indignity, they were permitted access to their base of operations. Rumors that the government had built secret institutions for the sole purpose of testing out new weapons far from exaggerated. It would be a matter of time before they were discovered and forced to flee. They were preparing for just such an occasion.

The leader said, "I've made contact with our benefactors, they should be able to provide us shelter. This will require that we relocate out of the country for some time. Though our facilities have proven used and worn in the past, this one shall await us with the latest in technological warfare."

Most smiled under their masks; their new leader was turning out far from the disappointment that had been Leland Bishop. His promises brought them new technology, better accommodations, and far more opportunities that made their goal all the more true. By abandoning them for whatever fantasy had been born of his injuries and newly found mental instability, Silas had done them a tremendous service. Their new leader would bring about the new world order in no time at all. None would stop M.E.C.H. from achieving its ultimate goal.

Piling into a lift, they allowed the aged mechanisms to turn and groan, descending into the depths of their base. There had often been talk as to what became of Silas after his departure from M.E.C.H. However, all thoughts of the deserter were silenced when in the presence of their new leader. It was him who held the reigns of their organization now. He had more than proven himself a worthy leader.

"Sir, how long until the project is complete?"

"I have our new science division devoting their resources to its hurried completion. Once they update on their progress, you will act accordingly."

"Yes, sir."

The groaning of the lift ceased with a final screech of metal as they reached their floor, the doors lifting to reveal the expanse of their base. However, this was not the sight they had hoped would meet them upon arrival. The calm visage of their leader tightened as his eyes surveyed the area. They drew their weapons and began a sweep for enemy patrols. Someone had managed to infiltrate their base despite careful planning.

Bodies lay prone everywhere while many rushed to their aid; the machines they had been working were damaged. No doubt any data collected over the years was either lost or in enemy hands. Weapons laid forgotten on the floor, signs they had been fired evident. But it was also clear they had missed whatever they had been trying to hit. The medical teams were doing their best, but it was likely they had lost their scientists.

For now.

Kneeling down, their leader examined the lone survivor, left to tell the story before joining his brothers in death. Blood poured from his wounds and was no doubt filling his lungs as he struggled to speak. His eyes were filled with shame and disgrace at failing to protect their intel. His breaths grew shorter and more ragged as he struggled to pass on whatever message had kept him alive until now.

"W-We. . . never s-saw. . . t-th-them. . ."