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I can only i the same to my downed iant that we kept alive with ourmob, the sky is black and empty of Atalantia’s ships Did the EMP reach all the way to orbit? I see no dreadnought lights above

My ships will be dead at the spaceport Our shield down

This is the end, but I refuse to let the mob s me like it did my wife

Theer over with a block of masonry the size of afills my ears from the internal concussion The reinforced warhela hideous parade, where they hold me down before a tall headless statue of a Votus, and four teams pull my body taut as the rest of thein to heave It rocks on its pedestal, each heave bringing it closer and closer to its tipping point, after which several tons of es I wait as the four teaainst what they think is th, but is actually the reinforced skeleton of the arambit

When the statue finally tips forith a cheer fro and right ar forward, i Heliopolitan Reds s theo of the line In a sudden explosion of pure force, thethey’re worth against their teams They’re jolted forward, even as thethe statue

The ti is almost comedic

Several tons of stone make wet boneless sacks of , suddenly appalled by the sight of pulverizedto me I unravel myself and stand in the dead heavy armor

That they are not the same mob that butchered Daxo and mutilated my wife does not matter I kill them all

The Brown street cleaner rushes for ht of my

unpowered arod Mickey carved using all his infernal devices I need no razor for this mindless dreck This man is tiny My metal fist collapses the side of his skull and shatters vertebrae I lift the Silver who kicked roin by his throat and squeeze until I feel spine I shatter a man’s femur with a stomp, and collapse his sternum into his heart as I es crackle under arh thehter

As a anism In fear, they divide In death, they beco meat carpet

When all have fled or died, there is no one left to kill but a convulsing Silver boy who huddles by what reht of his wide eyes and slack jaw and desperate begging stops usted So I wheel away back into my world

The Reds who ca me There are six of the sunbaked laborers Not a one older than twenty They stand with their fists in a salute I open an external pouch manually and find the helm key I insert it into the collar until a latch pops I roll back the wolf’s head hel Reds stare up at nized my armor before, but now they see my face, and they take a step back in fear

“I lost my razor on the rooftops Find it”

By the tiBlade in his tre hands, another crowd has for to decide whether it’s worth rushing me I take the blade from the boy They see its shape They run