The rivulets were sloshing back and forth now, streaming off of the sides of his head, as his ground speed was now nearly thirty miles an hour.  Off to his right, just barely visible, the highway was leading him West. He stayed in the trees, though, to avoid enemy complications.  Project Sword would have dearly loved to cleave his enemy, reduce them to motionless shells, but that would draw attention to his passage, and his destination.  He mentally activated the transciever, and Hotel California once again filtered through his aural receptors.  The signal was stronger now... he was getting closer.  It was a clue, he knew... he had been briefed on tactical distractions before his handlers had been killed, and this was a signal to converge on California.  More clues would come later, as reinforcements arrived.  He just had to be patient.

He leapt over a log, and came to a thick, boggy area by the highway.  His internal maps showed this to be a dry gulch, but so far his internal maps had been extremely inaccurate, particularly when it came to moisture.  Did this happen every year? THe floodings, the mudslides, the washouts... he thought they should have been included in his databases.

With another mental switch, Project Sword seemed to disappear.  A shimmering in the air, like a blur, moved like lightning accross the bog, leaving heavy foot-holes which quickly filled in with muddy water.  Project Sword would not be stopped.
 

Project Sword was hurtling down the centreline of the old highway, missing cars by scant inches, his metalloid armor whistling in the hot, humid air.  He was aware of occupants in the cars, but he was programmed to ignore deceased civilians.  He occaisionally got override errors whenever that data file was accessed, override errors he was at a loss to explain.  Anytime a data file seemed to reference dead civilians, or anything more than one year ago, he got errors.  Once he located a new operator, he would have to get those files examined.

He rounded a corner, and stopped.

Footprints.

Footprints in dense road dust moved accross the highway, from the direction of Palm Springs.  They were fresh... the wind would have eradicated anything older than an hour.  Barely the time it takes a synapse to fire, and he activated his nanometallurgical cloak, virtually vanishing from conventional view.  His sword remained sheathed, but it would be ready if needed.  The footsteps moved up the hill, and he saw fresh gouges in the tough clay and shale hills.  Handholds.  Someone had climbed here.  A cursory examination showed human handprints.  Small, possibly a female or child.

Thirty seconds later, he crested the hill on foot, circling around wide.  There, in the distance, a fortified structure on indeterminate origin.  A file told him it contained agricultural products, and could be used as shelter and protection.  Atop the structure, a small figure.  Human.  Female.

Moving.

It was the first living person he had seen in over a year.  Perhaps she was an operator.  He needed his systems checked very badly, after a year without maintenance.

He deactivated the cloak, and walked quickly but  unthreateningly towards the fortified structure...

NOTE: Project Sword's location is currently unknown at this time.

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Project Sword is a cyborg, fast, sleek and very durable.  Outside of hands and feet, his only weapon is an electrically-activated nanowire blade, held in place by the invisible force of the uni-directional nanotube backing (when current is run through it, it stiffens) that allows him to cut through most conventional man made materials.  When deactivated, the weapon is merely a handle attached to his thigh.

He has an advanced sensor suite, allowing him to "see" throughout the electromagetic spectrum (which also gives him a radar sense) as well as advanced hearing (although not as acute as Wolf's).

Project Sword's most effective mode of defense is a cloaking device that effectively grants him invisibility through a majority of the visual spectrum.  Unfortunately the cloak and the sword are incompatible; if he is employing one, he cannot engage the other.

His 'handlers' died, or went missing, and he just sort of... wandered out of containment, and is trying to find someone to a) help fix his software, and b) give him orders.  However, everytime he encounters errors, file access errors, that's him trying to access old memories about who he was, and everytime he gains back just a miniscule amount of personality.  At the moment he is sort of trusting, and innocent, but with powerful, powerful programs urging him towards violence.   The software includes advanced hand-to-hand techniques as well as proficiency with a variety of martial art weapons as well as numerous small and medium sized firearms.