A reinforced 2020 Cadillac Escalade. A proud, American made vehicle for a proud, self-made American man. Was it as opulent as his tastes usually called for? Maybe not, but Donovan Glost knew it appealed to something in the brain of most who called for "America for Americans", the same crowd who would often chant something similar when it came to the human/mutant divide. Yes, for better or worse, this was the vehicle he would be traveling in to meet the up and coming CEO of NuGenesis, Marques Nurdstrom. The same man who had invested millions into the augmentation of human capability, a technology desperately needed to combat the ever-increasing flood of superhuman, sometimes extraterrestrial threats faced by the human race.
Travelling with him was his bodyguard and confidant, Grant Diaz, a mutant of mud and gravel, wrapped in layers of latex and cosmetics that gave off the impression that he was almost human. They were a seemingly contradictory pair. One, the leader of the Humans First Foundation, an organization devoted to the interests of humanity, devoted to maintaining its safety from the very type of being that sat only a few feet away from its president, and the other, a shapeshifting metahuman murderer and terrorist, whose actions had cost hundreds of lives.
But money and politics did make for the strangest of bedfellows.
It was near sundown by the time the car was loaded with the usual supplies. Bottled water, assorted nuts, dried cranberries, veal jerky, champagne, M67 fragmentation grenades, MP7A1 Personal Defense Weapons.
Still, Grant Diaz could not help but feel that something was amiss. Some instinct called to him, though what it said, he could not decipher.
"Somethin' don't feel right, boss. Air's too smooth. Day feels too easy."
Donovan Glost barely glanced up from the manila folders he held in his hands before shaking his head and disregarding the warning.
"Something is always 'not right' with you, Diaz. You spook too easily. We're in an armored SUV with plate glass windows, a reinforced engine block, four ply, self-sealing tires, and all of those."
With an exaggerated sweep of his hand, Glost motioned to the case containing the Militia's standard array of explosives and compact firearms.
"Besides, Diaz it's just a business meeting. What are you scared of? You think mid-level management is going to charge us in a tank?"
"Ya jus' don't get it, boss. It's in the air. Shit's about ta go down."
Glost was about to answer when a mass of concrete and rebar smashed into the SUV, suspending the right side of the vehicle in midair as it teetered to the point of tipping, before the whole machine came crashing down.
"Don't. You. Dare. Say it."
"I tol' ya so, boss."
Glost glared up into the black recesses where his associates eyes should have been, a stream of blood trickling from his golden locks and down the right side of his face.
"Just get out there, and deal with it."