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GM August 4th, 2017 Outside the Eastern Seaboard Bank, Lincoln Branch Summer was fading away. It was still too hot for non-summer wear, but every Freedonian felt the chill coming off the bay a little stronger each day. They were cramming as much summer into their lives as they could. Including the criminals. With a shattering *SKREE* the bank's windows exploded outward, letting a dozen women in yellow and black, ski masks with welding glass on their heads and chunky electro-punk guns in their hands, into the streets of Freedom! At that moment, ensconced in a limousine that he had, on some unaccountable urge, called from its cubby hole back at the Transnational Building, Amir al-Misri had spent the last half hour with a voluable redheaded man with a thick beard, a $350 haircut streaked with a light dusting of grey, and a 12,000,000 watt smile. Max Mars, of MarsTech, who had somehow talked him into listening to a spiel about wave power generators. The explosion had, mercifully forced him to pause and politely wait until the crisis was resolved. Meanwhile, just down the street was a certain Carol, who unlike the rest of the running, shouting Freedonian, could do something about this.