There was no doubt about it. The latest find fit the pattern perfectly. The chest plate was removed and nowhere to be seen; none of the victim's four limbs were attached any more, instead being arrayed in a diamond above the head; the head itself had been sheared in half, and the neural wiring pulled out to form a grim facsimile of a face in the limb-diamond above. She didn't need to examine the cranial plate closely, as she already knew what she would find there: a Maker's Mark welded to the forehead, cleft in two along with the cranial plate itself. It was illustrative of the one thing she could be certain of in this case: whatever was
It was sundown when the gang finally left the town of Made smouldering behind them. The laughter, which a few short minutes ago had chilled the cores of a dozen working girls at Rosie's Palace and made children quiver in their hiding places, echoed between the hills, settling into silence with the clouds of dust thrown up by their machines.
Their leader rode out in front atop a contraption that belched black smoke into the air with every revolution of the engine, mingling with the dust thrown up by thick wheels. The other members of the gang spread out in some vague semblance of a formation behind him, each aboard their own two-wheeled dev
Davy sat in the porch of his family's home and watched the sun set over Deadbolt. Even with his optical shades in place, his receptors were almost overwhelmed by the nigh-infinite brightness, but he enjoyed the sight too much to stop. Or he had done, anyway, back when he had known pleasure in anything. Now he looked more out of habit.
His joints creaked in their accustomed fashion as he levered himself to his feet, and he slowly wandered back inside. His bag was packed and waiting for him on the table, and he felt the now-familiar remorse as he surveyed the empty house that had once been so full of noise and life. What was worse than th