So I crammed my fears way down deep into the back of my brain, and I kept tight rein on my impulses. No heavy security armor or miniguns for this kid. I picked out a nice, familiar set of Level 3 form-fitting body armor, and—okay, maybe I overreached myself on this one—an Ares high-velocity assault fire. As an afterthought, I picked myself out a nice assault vest—basically, a harness with the sole purpose of carrying an obscene number of spare ammo clips—and I was ready.