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Now, you remember the crow, don't you?
When the crow started asking for parts, MetPharm jumped. If they could have another supersoldier, the equal of Jim, well-eager would have been an understatement. They fell all over themselves to get the crow everything they could, parts, tools, raw materials-if he wanted it, he got it.
Remember how I said Jim didn't trust the crow?
He had good reason.
A few days after the crow'd gotten to work, he lurched out of his enclosure, lugging this ugly godawful gun, in the ugliest suit of power armor I'd ever seen. Where Jim's was an attractive blue and white, the crow's was a hideous yellow somewhere between "construction equipment" and "piss stain." Where his was slim and agile, the crow's was bottom-heavy, clanked like mad, and lurched rather than moving.
All of this was rather academic when the crow switched on the anti-grav.
From what I'm told, the crow slaughtered everyone present, made off with a batch of puppies, and the yellowjacket girl-which Jim loved, in a bashful, elementary-school sort of way.
MetPharm was shocked. They'd lost a bunch of valuable scientists, several experiments, and a possible control should Jim ever turn rogue. The press was screaming for the heads of those in charge, so they made soothing noises at everyone important, and told Jim to go get the bastard.
Some wag named him Psycrow.
Damned if the name isn't spot on.