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Prologue

TWO MEN STOOD IN the middle of a shadowed, barren field Both were human One was tall, muscled, with dark hair and a busted-up face His syn-cotton shirt was torn, his jeans dirty, and his boots scuffed There were telltale weapon bulges under his arms, at his wrists, and at his ankles

Clearly, he was the bodyguard

The other wore a perfectly tailored silk business suit, his Italian loafers freshly polished His sun-kissed hair was expensively coiffed, and the only bulge he sported was the one in his pocket, where he kept his wallet

Clearly, he was the money

Acrid wind shrieked as if so thick dirt granules in every direction, Money radiated ilee--until two other men materialized a few feet away, and the impatience vanished

The newcole step: a white-haired Arcadian--an otherworlder with the ability to teleport, a a suit as well, only his was ill-fitting and made from a cheap synthetic fiber

The huent fear and urine Poor bastard must have pissed himself

Without a word, the Arcadian pushed the treet interesting

The rust-colored sky appeared swollen, the storm-drenched clouds ready to burst In the center, the sun was a heht That hardly narled trees surrounding the field, his gaze cut through the glooh flesh

"You think you can encroach on ust of wind created that perfect background music

"N--no I just … I … I’m so sorry I never o’s elite prettier girls? Better prices?"

"No No You have to believe ht … hoped …" Money sneered No question, he was awhat he wanted, when he wanted it He held out his hand, and Bodyguard shts and hopes just got you killed"

"No!" Kneeler sobbed like a baby "Please! Don’t do this I’ll leave New Chicago I won’t ever come back I swear!"

Money nodded to the Arcadian, who jerked his T-shirt over his head and stuffed the material in Kneeler’s e the cloth, perhaps to attempt another plea for mercy

Either way, he failed

"You were right, you know," Money said, sht erupted fro Kneeler in his chest

A ony pierced the air As Kneeler toppled to the ground, twitching, dying as his organs fried to a crisp, Money returned the gun to Bodyguard and wiped his hands in a job well done

One

Alien Investigation and Re Camp Day One

TRAINEE AFTER TRAINEE EMERGED froraduated froh, but most were in their early twenties, male, and obviously overwhel unabashedly as they carried their bags to their new digs: a rundown, luxuries-are-a-thing-of-the-past bunkhouse in the ly There was dirt, dirt, and more dirt, with the occasional knotted, naked tree to spice things up Only thing that wasn’t a cohout the entirestretch, with its tall but thin brick walls, elevated beams, and manmade holes and pools, but by the end of the day, everyone here would hate the course so much they’d want to burn it down and dance on the ashes rather than look at it

The few females to disembark, well, they were in their early twenties, too, and just as overwheler

Poor, duent Hector Dean had ridden in that bus himself Everyone on it had been yelled at, demoralized, and slapped around, all in an effort to weed out the pussies What those two girls didn’t know but should? The yelling, the de were just precursors for as to come

Poor, dumb, about-to-be-traumatized kids

Hector didn’t have to check the roster to learn the identities of his eager beavers He’d nized the pair from their photos Ava Sans and Noelle Tremain

Ava, a twenty-three-year-old fluff of fe in a pair of heels She had curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes Cute in a Sunday school teacher kind of way Which was ironic She had a rap sheet with rown up in Whore’s Corner, the poorest part of New Chicago, with a drugged-out ers Hector could relate Not about theterrible one who’d enjoyed watching his young sons prize-fight, but about the drugged-outin Whore’s Corner

The WC here Hector had been born, chewed up, spit out, and refor on

Noelle, also twenty-three years old, though she was a tall, reed-slender slice of elegance, with lighter brown hair that was straight as a board, and eyes of the lightest gray The product of old iant-assservants to attend her every whim

Hector could not relate

She was as lovely as a caoddess Which was also ironic She ht have a shorter rap sheet than Ava--ht her a cleaner file--but every one of her arrests had ste so he’d been somewhat impressed with her before he’d seen her A foret down and dirty when necessary, uncaring whether they were hurt--or worse--always ents

Now he had to reevaluate She looked like a tasty after-dinner treat ready to throw a tantru, not a potential badass