Just throwing this note on every story this week. I'll update my profile with it too, but I know few people read the FAQ there. Ahem.

I will not be accepting AI-Generated artwork for covers. I will be respecting the hard work of actual artists that they put into their work, no matter the quality, as I will always appreciate that over something a soulless machine makes.

Cover Art: Kirire

Chapter 30

There was something terrifying about how the hordes of people had all but disappeared. They hadn't fully, as people had been brought back to life where they died, and there were people here and there milling on street corners and moving about, but Blake now drove the APC through mostly quiet streets, with nothing of the crowds of thousands they'd faced before. The rest of ARC Corp were talking in the back, and Blake listened, though she didn't dare actually stop the vehicle and had to keep both eyes on the road.

"-can't believe it's an issue of time zones," said one of the remaining employees, shaken by the loss of his fellows. "There's no way Atlas makes a stupid mistake like that."

"I'm not saying traditional time zones," said Coral. "But there have long been theories that the twenty-four hour clock we ascribe to is… not perfectly accurate. It was always a rough approximation of the length of a day, and it's possible we're out by a few minutes. Spread those over twenty years and-"

"This was almost two hours out," said Nicholas. "I'd accept a few minutes, but two hours - a twelfth of a day? The world would have noticed and adjusted the clocks if the sun was at its zenith at ten in the morning. Or if it was rising at three or four in the morning."

Coral shrugged. "It was but a theory."

"Then it's one of two other things," said one of the Arc twins. "This is either a case of us getting it wrong all this time or the anomaly reacted to us. Which is more likely?"

"Unfortunately, both are possible," said Coral. "We did our research as best we could, but anomalies are anomalies, and the Twilight City was one we avoided. Most of us were children or not even born when it became active. The ones who would have set the expectations and times would be you, father. And mother."

Nicholas Arc grunted. "It would be arrogance to claim I made no mistake. The original event that caused this did begin at 14:00 hours. We saw subsequent revivals at the same time, or thereabouts."

"And thus the assumption was born," said Coral. "In all fairness, it wasn't like anyone could stick around to make sure. Interesting." She crossed one leg over the other and tapped her fingers on her knee, deep in thought. "Atlas has been scouting with drones, so they would have noticed if revivals were happening outside of normal hours. That tells us that most of the time the revival is happening to schedule. Sometimes, however, it might not be. Is that random chance, or due to unforeseen stimulus?"

"Does it matter?" asked Jaune. He sounded breathless. Terrified. "We're stuck in here now."

There was a meaty smack, and Blake winced. "Calm yourself!" snapped Nicholas Arc. "The Arc family stands strong so that others can take confidence in us. How do you expect to be taken seriously if you're shaking like a leaf?"

"I-I'm sorry. It's just I can't forget the last-"

"Let's not discuss that here," interrupted Coral. Blake couldn't help but be grateful. "The simple fact is we're stuck here now. We've been shepherded into the city."

"What was with all those people out there?" asked the other twin. "They come back where they die. Are you telling me that many people died in one spot? It's practically empty here by comparison."

Practically empty, but not, and Blake didn't even bother to swerve out the way of a young man – sixteen or so – who flung himself in front of them. She was moving at speed, and only briefly saw his excited face before he was swept under the wheels and crunched like a wet sack of sticks. The vehicle bounced over his corpse and kept going.

"We parked outside a bank," said Nicholas. "That must have been busy. As for the rest, I doubt that many people died in the streets, but they must have had time to congregate while we dealt with those around the APC."

"They're intelligent," said Coral, "and they remember things. I can't help but think they'll block all the exits now that they know we're inside. There's not technically any rush to hunt us down."

"Other than the pleasure of being able to torture and kill us first." said a twin.

"No. No." Coral shook her head. "They'll likely capture us and bring us to the rest to put on a show. Think of the reputation and favours they could get if they mutilated us before a live audience of all their fellows."

"Wow, sis," mumbled the other. "Thanks for making this ten times worse."

"That's the Coral Arc promise. Ugh." The first touched her flamethrower. "What are we going to do, then? We can't kill them all and we can't drive out. Hundred lien says they're already pushing rubble on the road. They might revert, but those burned out cars don't. They could fill the road with them."

"The answer is simple," said Nicholas. "We find and destroy the anomaly at the heart of this and remove these hordes from the city entirely."

Yeah, thought Blake. Simple.

/-/

To say Nicholas' plan of abandoning the APC and continuing on foot was unpopular was like saying a knife to the stomach was a poor greeting. Oh, she understood his reasoning – the APC was loud, confined to the roads, and sure to continue drawing large groups of people. The industrial dust engine it used was designed for efficiency, speed and power, and not silence. It could be heard for a long distance. It was an armoured vehicle though. There was a lot to be desired when it came to armour.

Despite weak attempts from Blake, Jaune, and the twins to argue, he was adamant. They would continue on foot. "Smaller parties will be easier for us to deal with," said Nicholas. "Most, if not all of us, are huntsman trained. We're facing civilians."

"No guns," warned Coral. "Let's not draw everyone for a kilometre."

That was fine for Blake. Well, not fine, but viable. She looked forlornly at the APC they'd abandoned back facing a building across the street. The hope was that any citizens who found it would assume they'd fled into that building, and not catch their trail across the street and through the next. They would be moving building to building, which would theoretically be a whole lot safer than taking to the busy roads and streets.

Theoretically…

The blasted-out building that had taken to must have been an apartment block once. The elevator was a wreck and the staircases and walls were burned and scorched black. Windows had long disappeared, and what little furniture remained was metal and broken, the upholstery and carpets were also stringy and charred black. They kept to the ground floors for now, moving through the building and out a window at the back, where Nicholas would go alone and check the road each way. More than once they had to wait as people walked by. Sometimes alone, sometimes in a group of two or three or more. Some were walking, others jogging, and one time Blake held her hands over her mouth as a woman chased a man, tackled him to the ground and began stabbing at him with a shard of glass.

Nicholas was quick to wave them across behind her as she cackled and panted. Their shoes on the cobbles made too much noise, and she turned, only to have her head separated from her neck by the older man before a scream or shout could come forth. The girl's head rolled across the pavement, eyes tracking them and mouth stretching into a wide and manic smile. It chased them into the next building, an abandoned corner shop of some kind. The shelves had long since been knocked over and picked clean of whatever food and drink had survived the initial calamity; there was no one inside it.

"We're going to have to cross the road to keep moving," groaned Jaune, looking out the door. "It's only two lanes, but the road goes on a long way."

"It is what it is," said Nicholas. "We have to keep moving toward the CCT. Coral, any luck reaching Saphron?"

"None. The signal is still singing."

"Annoying. I'm sure they're still alive. Some of them, anyway." He didn't look nor sound emotional about that. "Even if some were caught by surprise and dragged down, they had an APC to rely on like us."

"Terra's Slaved Anomaly is fairly distinctive as well," said Coral. "I'm sure we'd have seen it go off by now."

Nicholas Arc frowned, and Blake was reminded of the fact he didn't approve of Slaved Anomalies – or anomalies in general. The man didn't mention it however, and instead moved to push Jaune out the way and peer through the doorway at the road. "One at a time," he eventually decoded. "Sprint across, then stop inside the next building and wait. There are enough citizens running around that the odd person shouldn't be noticed. A group this large will be. I'll go first."

Nicholas waited, waited, and then broke from the door and sprinted. He was a blur of black across the road, body straight and coat flapping behind him. He jumped through a smashed window and into the next building, and they all held their breath to see if anyone noticed and pursued. No one did.

Jade went next, followed by some of their employees. Blake was confident enough in her own speed to go last, preferably after Jaune so she could make sure he didn't get run down without aura. As she watched the road and the ARC Corp members run across it, she couldn't help but notice the long streaks of red blood that ended in crumpled bodies. It was like someone had picked those people up, smeared them against the road and left them there. Macabre curiosity had her pointing them out to Jaune.

He shrugged, and said, "I've no idea."

"Likely drivers," said Coral, having overheard them. "A lot of people would have been in moving vehicles when the anomaly hit. Their vehicles kept moving but they reset back to where they were at the time – which means they're moving between thirty and sixty miles per hour, in the air, with nothing to support them."

Blake grimaced. Yet again, she wished she hadn't asked. It was bad enough imagining all the people driven to madness and psychopathy, but now she felt bad for those who were resurrected with only a brief moment to scream before they were dashed to paste on the tarmac roads. They'd remember it, too, but forever be helpless to do anything about it. Wake, die, wake, die, wake, die.

"That's a terrible fate."

"I'm sure there are worse," said Coral, glibly. "I mean, think of all the people on life support and unable to move in the hospital. I bet they're forced to lay there shaking as their former nurses come to carve them up."

Blake's entire body shuddered, and she looked down at the floor.

"Coral!" said Jaune, angry on her behalf.

"What? I'm just saying there are probably a lot of worse fates to have here. I mean, if any of us are caught and killed by having our bodies cut open then we'll come back split and cut open. Maybe that's part of the charm. They'd remember where we died as well. If we always came back screaming, we'd be like some murderous musical instrument to-"

Jaune, having had enough, shoved his sister out onto the road. Coral landed running and didn't stop until she was on the other side. Jaune then motioned for Hazel to go and paused to rub Blake's back. "I'm sorry about her."

"She's not wrong, is she? I only considered the people who lived here and were driven mad. There's more, isn't there? People on their death beds, children – even babies – and they're all put through an eternity of helpless agony. A-And that'll be our fates if we die here."

"Hence why, even if we do die, father is convinced we'll continue the mission. Even if we're bleeding out and in agony, we'll push on to find and kill the anomaly just to free ourselves an eternity of that."

"But we'll be helpless."

"I don't think it's that instantaneous," said Jaune. "Those drivers reverted back to a few seconds before their deaths. Otherwise, they'd come back splattered on the road. If we die to a gunshot, for instance, we'll probably come back a few seconds before, perfectly healthy."

The implication wasn't lost on her. "You're saying we should take our own lives?"

"I'm saying that a quick death is preferable to a slow one. But survival is even more preferable." He slapped her shoulder. "Your go. Run."

Blake had never run faster. Never. Normally, she paced herself in a fight to not wear herself out, but this time she pounded her feet down and took the thirty or so metres like it was a race, sprinting across and diving through the window without once slowing down. Jaune came after, much slower than her, but thankfully not drawing any attention. Maybe the hordes were busy hunting down the others, still in their APC, or maybe they were content to watch the walls and make sure they didn't try and escape.

"What happens if we can't get out before tomorrow?" asked Blake.

Jaune's father replied, "Then the bombing will commence as normal with us inside. There's no reason to worry about that – we know what time it's coming, and what time the follow-up barrages come at too. We'll seek shelter underground long before it happens, and only leave when we know it's over."

She wished she could be as calmly confident about that as he was.

"The CCT isn't far from here according to the map." He brought out his scroll, and they all did the same. Even if there was no signal, they had the maps downloaded onto it. To Blake's relief, the CCT was in fact only a block or two away. "With any luck, the anomaly will be there."

"That'd be the dream," said Jade.

"Even if it isn't there, we should be able to use the equipment to boost our signal," said Nicholas. "That might let us reach Ironwood outside and fill him in or, at the very least, force a call through to Saphron and the others. It'll also give us a commanding view of the city. Might help decide our next move."

/-/

Against all odds, the CCT Tower was still standing.

Had the city truly fallen to the Grimm like the stories said, she imagined it would have been knocked down by now, but the constant napalm aimed at Mountain Glenn hadn't broken away at its structure yet, only blackened and charred it, and blasted out windows. It didn't seem likely the aerials at the top would be in any good condition, but there had to be more inside.

It wasn't like the towers in other kingdoms weren't used to Grimm and harsh weather causing the odd bit of damage, and it was usually up to their engineers to fix it quickly lest the vast communication network connecting Remnant falter. They couldn't do that if they had to keep ordering parts from Atlas. The problem was that CCT Towers were always staffed – always; it was a twenty-four hour business with shifts at any time of the day – so it was no big surprise when they got close and saw a whole host of Twilight Citizens around the tower. Not a surprise at all.

They moved a staircase or two up the building they were hunkering in to get a better view and crept to the end of what might once have been an office of some kind. The cubicles remained, and some even had desks in them that had been shielded from fire. A small kitchen stood to one side, unfortunately raided of all food. There was no running water. Again, the glass had all been blown out and cleaned up, likely collected for weapons and done away with at some point. Their small group crept their way to the empty windows, crouched beneath them and peered out.

The CCT had its own car park around it to the front, and a building to the back. It reminded Blake of a lighthouse, with the whole building at the base and tower coming up from it. The visitor doors were at the base of the tower, glass electric things that had again been shattered long ago. The building otherwise was likely for back-up servers, generators, staff and supplies.

"We'll have to take hold of both," said Nicholas. "If we want to start the CCT, we're going to have to make sure it's powered."

"Isn't it already?" asked Jaune. "Coral has been getting that weird song."

"We've no way of knowing for sure if that's the anomaly at work or just something being broadcast elsewhere. Also, the main signal is obviously down, otherwise we'd be able to connect to it and call outside."

"Does anyone here know how to operate a CCT?" asked Jade.

"Terra would," said Coral, "So it's a shame she isn't here. Honestly, I don't expect it'll be that difficult to turn the thing on. Most of the settings should be as they were when the city went dark."

"That should be enough to enable a call," said Nicholas. "And if not, well, we tried. I'm more worried about the people outside it."

Him and everyone else. Blake watched as the citizens milled around. They weren't roaming like your stereotypical movie zombies; they were walking, running, sitting down, some were even talking to one another. More were torturing people. At least one person was being pulled apart by their arms and legs by four others, and there was enough blood in the car park to suggest they weren't the first. The problem – and she couldn't believe it was a legitimate problem to have – was that not enough of them were killing one another to clear the way. Worse still, more and more were arriving. Not in their thousands like before, but at least twenty more people had shown up.

"What do you think is drawing them?"

"It's possible they've predicted us," said Coral. "With how many people lived in Mountain Glenn, odds are at least a few would take a guess we'd come here."

"Something is happening," said Jade. "Look!"

Down on the road, a vehicle of sorts was moving toward the CCT. It wasn't the other APC, and it wasn't even theirs, somehow hotwired since Blake had taken the keys with her. Instead, it was a large wagon, the likes of which would have been attached to the back of a lorry, that was being pulled by no less than eight people and pushed by the same amount. It bounced along the road with a few people stood atop it, on either side of what looked to be a huge metal pot.

The greater reaction came from the people at the CCT who, upon seeing it coming, began to break apart and, to Blake's shock, run away. It was hard to see from such a distance if they were scared or not, but it definitely looked like they wanted nothing to do with these people. A few too slow or distracted (or injured) to run were quickly attacked by the people pulling and pushing the wagon, who split off and raced around the CCT, mostly ignoring the building, and going for the other citizens instead.

"Do you think it's some kind of gang?" asked Blake.

"Maybe," said Jaune. "I mean, like Coral says there are a lot of people who lived and died in Mountain Glenn. They're not all going to turn into savages at the same rate. Maybe some have kept to some kind of organisation."

"I wouldn't wager money on the not savages part," said Jade.

"Me neither," said Nicholas. "But the principle is the same. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn there are factions vying for control here."

"I've seen enough post-apocalyptic movies that say the same thing," said one of Coral's remaining employees. Blake was about to snort, but realised he was right. Mountain Glenn basically was a post-apocalyptic city, and sure enough the people down there were some kind of gang making their most in it.

Most of the time in those movies they were banding together to scavenge and hunt for supplies, which probably wasn't a big deal here where you couldn't die without them, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be advantages to grouping together. Less chance of being a victim for one, but also better hunting for… well… whatever it was they were hunting for. Victims themselves, supplies, or maybe even a way out of Mountain Glenn. A lot of things were easier when you could pool resources and manpower.

"They're lighting something up," said Jaune. "And they're carrying the captives back- oh my god. Oh no. No way."

"Just when you thought this couldn't get any more fucked up," groaned Jade. "Do we move in?" she asked her father. "Not to save them, obviously, but there's at max twenty-five people down there. It's good odds."

"No." Nicholas didn't take his eyes off the nightmare show down below, even though Blake had given up and was sitting with her back to the window. That didn't stop her hearing screams as people were carved up or tossed, still alive, into the boiling cauldron filled with dirty water. "There will be even less people when these are done… eating…" Even he grimaced. "There's another twenty hours at least until the next bombardment. They'll be here one, two at most, and then they'll leave to look for more prey."

The cannibal crew obviously weren't a new phenomenon to Mountain Glenn given the reaction of the other citizens in running away from them. Despite not wanting to, Blake's mind considered how they might have formed. Had some people been dieting or fasting, died hungry, and then been forced to deal with twenty years of constant starvation? Even if they found food, they'd be resurrected starving again. That constant, gnawing hunger might have driven them to extremes once their sanity broke down.

Or, she thought, they might just be in it for fun at this point.

Like the people torturing others for amusement, they might have decided that cooking human meat into fine meals was a more artistic form of expression. It made Blake wonder if there were other, equally horrific, stories around Mountain Glenn – maybe even traditional artists trying to paint with blood and guts, or musicians trying to meld dying screams into melodies.

Blake grimaced and tried to convince herself her imagination was worse than anything they might actually see, but the smell of cooking meat that wafted up to their window told her that might not be true. The worst part by far was that it smelled pretty good. If she had been hungry, and if she hadn't known what was in it, then she might have been tempted.

The cannibals took their time cooking, and then took their time eating, and then took some more time cheering and celebrating before, finally, snuffing out the fires and taking their positions again. By that point all the members of ARC Corp were strewn about the abandoned office quietly talking or resting – Blake was hunched up in a cubicle next to Jaune, the two of them sharing body heat and trying not to see or hear anything.

When the sound of wheels and metal began outside, however, they quickly reconvened at the window. Sure enough, the wagon was being slowly wheeled away, back down another street carrying on the path from where they'd come. All in all, they'd been there for about two hours and twenty minutes, not far off Nicholas' prediction. Fast food, they were not. Blake hated herself for even thinking it.

"Now's our chance," said Nicholas. "Before the others return."

It was getting on to the afternoon and there was still light enough to see and be seen when they crept across the abandoned road toward the CCT. The gates to the car park were open, several burnt out cars still parked there, and the front doors were blasted open. The power was obviously off, because the automatic doors didn't move, but since the glass was gone they just stepped through the gaps and into the building. To Blake's surprise, the interior was in fairly good condition.

"CCT Towers are integral to every city and built to last," said Nicholas.

"What do we do first?" asked Jaune. "Should we put the power on or check the antennae?"

"The latter." said Jade. "Let's not draw attention turning the lights on if the control room is ruined."

Nicholas nodded. "Good thinking. Stay together. All up."

The elevator was out for obvious reasons, so they took the long and spiralling staircase up the tower. There were numerous stops along the way, all shrouded in darkness, but it was the top floor and the control room they eventually made their way to. The computer screens were dark, the windows gone as was becoming typical, and numerous computer towers had been thrown around and blasted apart. No matter how tough the construction of the place, anything near the windows had faced two decades of fire bombing and had not survived the experience.

Luckily, the important equipment was not at the windows, but inside the inner offices of the tower, which were – or would have been – marked with employee only signs. The doors were locked, but easily forced open with a few kicks. Inside, the servers were still standing, and looked to be in good condition. Furthermore, the screens of several computer stations were in one piece. They weren't even cracked.

"Got to love that Atlas engineering," said Jade, sweeping a chair back to sit on and inspect one computer. She ducked her head under the desk to check the wires too. "Everything looks to be in place. Not sure about the antennae, though."

"I don't trust the roof," said Nicholas. "It's taken too much punishment and anyone going up there might fall through or slip off."

Blake imagined the long drop and the impact and wondered if said person would be brought back safely on top or brought back mid-fall like the drivers on the roads, forced to experience the free-fall and impact over and over again. There was no way she was going to offer to go up there.

"We'll have to take a chance with the power," said Nicholas. "Coral, take your employee and Jaune's downstairs and get them started. Not you, Jaune," he said, when Jaune made to follow. "You're working on the computers with me. Jade, Hazel, sweep this floor and make sure there aren't any nasty surprises. Kill anything you find."

It made sense to keep Jaune up top since he didn't have any aura, but that didn't make Blake any happier about being separated from him – nor being sent down with Coral Arc of all people. There was no arguing, though. Jaune shrugged his shoulders as if to say he was helpless, and Blake trudged after Coral and her single remaining office member. The rest of the Secrets Office who had come with her to Mountain Glenn had already been killed. The last survivor wasn't looking like he wanted to talk about it either, tight and rigid as he was, so Blake walked down the staircase behind them in silence.

They didn't have to go back outside to reach the building housing the generators, but they did have to force their way through a metal gate where a padlock and chain was securing the gate. Blake tried to wrench it open with Gambol Shroud before Coral had her step back. The woman reached into her black dress and drew out what looked to be a simple tube of lipstick. She uncorked the top and gently pinched the bottom to make the slanted cherry-red tip come out.

Blake opened her mouth to ask what the point of that was when Coral pushed and rubbed it over the chains. There was an angry hiss, and the metal melted, snapped and fell apart with a rattle of chain links. Coral smiled, capped the lipstick and put it back into her pocket.

"Was that an anomaly?" asked Blake, breathless.

"You haven't gotten over that habit of asking stupid questions, have you?"

Blake grimaced as Coral's employee forced the gate open and stepped inside. It was dark, no windows this time, and though Blake could see perfectly the two of them could not. The man brought out a torch and shone it into the gloom, illuminating the rows of disused servers.

"I meant is that your Slaved-Anomaly."

"I am the Secrets Office. We don't have Slaved-Anomalies." Coral chuckled. "And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't limit myself to just one."

"You have more on you, don't you?"

Coral's smile grew. "Yes."

Great. Jaune's crazy sister was walking around covered from head to toe in anomalies, and Blake had no idea where they started or ended, or what they did. I'm not touching her if I can help it. And not accepting anything from her without a guarantee it won't melt my face off. The latter fear came from the very obvious way she imagined the lipstick anomaly had been discovered. If it could burn through metal that quickly, she didn't doubt it could eat through someone's face even faster.

"We ought to get this power back on before father grows impatient," said Coral.

With only three of them, they had to split up. Blake didn't like it, but the gate had been locked after all this time and she doubted it would have been with anyone else inside. The place was as silent as the grave, and she could see perfectly into the deep dark corners where spiders scuttled about.

Even so, it took time to find a generator that was in any position to work. They were dust-fed, and much of the dust had run out since the things would have come on automatically when the main power was cut. The drums were empty and it was a case of tyring to find any dust containers that still had some inside. Draining their own from their weapons wasn't going to do much, as the dust in a bullet and the dust required to operate one of the most energy-intensive buildings you could find in a city were more than a little different. They probably wouldn't get it on for more than thirty seconds even if they drained every round into the thing.

There had to be some barrels of dust around, however. Or so she hoped. Power cuts in a city wouldn't have been as big a concern as saving costs, and sure enough barrel after barrel was empty. Used up. Or the CCT Operators just hadn't managed to get their new orders in, the dust presumably needing to be shipped from Vale on the train systems.

"More dust shortages?" moaned Coral. "I really should ask Willow to look into that. I wonder if their anomaly is dying."

"Don't joke about that," said Blake. "The world relies on dust. If it ran out then we'd be in a lot of trouble."

"I know. I'm saying I would offer to look into their anomaly and help fix it." She chuckled, then, and said, "Not that father would agree. Ah well, thoughts for another time. Is there truly no dust here at all?"

"None that I can find," said her employee. Blake agreed.

"Hmm. Then I suppose our only option will be to find it from elsewhere. Correct me if I'm wrong but there was a refuelling station back up the road."

"There was," said Blake, crossing her arms. "But I'm not going all the way out there with just the three of us."

"Of course not. We'd have to carry a drum back and that would be too heavy. Let's go inform father."

They made their ways back up, closing the gate but leaving it unlocked behind them. Nicholas Arc didn't sound too surprised that they'd struggled, though he definitely looked annoyed.

"Every city is legally required to have spare dust on standby at key centres. Hospitals, administration, and CCT Towers included. I wish it surprised me that they'd ignore the rules if it meant saving some lien, however. Very well. Jaune, Jade and Hazel will stay here and hold the CCT. The rest of us will go to the station on foot and drain what dust we can."

That would mean Blake, Coral, the single Secrets Office employee and the four remaining employees from the Burn Office, along with Nicholas. Eight in total. Not a bad number for what they'd have to do, but still less than she would have liked. They all had aura though, and training, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

"The APC would have been good for this," said one of the employees. Blake hadn't bothered to get their names and didn't want to now lest she got too close to them. "We could have drained the dust from its engine."

"We'd have never gotten here unscathed if we kept to it," said Nicholas. "Bring two drums from the generator rooms. That ought to be enough. Four to carry them then they're full and four to keep watch and guard. Remember, we take no prisoners, but keep the volume down. Kill in hand-to-hand if you can. If all goes well, this will go off without a hitch."

"We're dead now that he's said that." quipped Coral, quietly into Blake's ear.

Blake couldn't think of a rebuttal.

We see our first gang in the Twilight City, because of course there would be gangs. I'm sure if the vehicles were still working then we'd have some of those "WITNESS ME" fellows from Mad Max. The amusing fact is that, without cars, they'd probably be using bicycles in this universe.

"Witness me!" screamed the man with silver-spray over his mouth, as he furiously pedalled his bright red and yellow child's tricycle. "Witness meeeee!"

Next Chapter: 21st November

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