Rory paused the screen.
“Find this man. Use any and all resources.”
“Yes, sir.” Lawson glanced at the screen and left.
Back at the exile, the crowd advanced.
“Heretic!”
The puppet let Luke lead them away.
“I don’t think they’re taking this well,” the puppet said. “I wasn’t
expecting a fucking parade, but a little rejoicing would’ve been nice.”
“You caused this,” Luke said.
“I didn’t cause shit. I’m trying to help you idiots realize you’re being
fucking duped.”
The shouts grew louder.
Luke turned to run. Something struck his face and hit the ground.
A small human fetus.
The warm embryonic fluid turned cold. Luke swallowed the puke he was about
to vomit up.
He looked up. A woman in a black trench coat stood in the street. From
beneath the coat, a shiny chrome cannon protruded. She smiled at the duo.
Another fetus launched, hitting Luke in the shoulder.
“What the fuck is that?” the puppet asked.