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Part One - Spiky Haze

Part 1 - Spiky Haze

Egg


Andre’s fragile ten-year-old mind had been slow cooked in the steam of residual hate left behind by his dead father; the hate crouched in his mother’s eyes from behind her bourbon glass, and the hate nestled in his brother’s bitter heart. That was family.

Jeremy, five-years older and soaked with dark energy, used his size and age to his advantage, taking things from Andre, threatening him, beating him, dangling him over the walkways. Andre had fought back, but being smaller and weaker, his futile efforts were frustrating and emotionally debilitating. Dismissed by his mother as brotherly behavior, Jeremy’s tormenting became ever more brutal and sadistic. On the morning Jeremy held his switchblade to Andre’s throat and slit the skin of his little brother’s neck, he did it with a laugh, as if they were best of friends sharing a special moment.

“We’ve got no room for weakness in this house,” his mother had slurred, when Andre went crying to her, blood soaking his shirt. “You got to stand up for yourself, Andre,” she insisted, leaning so close to his tear-stained face that the sweet and sharp smell of alcohol on her breath stung his eyes, “or this world is gonna eat you up.”

That was just how things were. That was family.

By the time he was twelve, Andre stopped feeling anything, certain that was how things would be forever. Until, on one perfectly still, baby-blue-skied day, everything changed.

That day began with Andre rising early to avoid Jeremy’s morning volatility, and panned out like every other day—library, recreation hall, back to the library, then down to the cages in the e-waste district.

Lined in rows of towering wire-mesh rectangles, the cages were filled with Upper Brulle’s discarded technology, to be sorted and recycled into new devices. Upper Brulle’s insatiable consumer habits had flooded the recycling facility until it spread into an entire district spanning a platform connecting all four Stems. Stacked by automatic drones, and monitored by inadequate and badly maintained security, the district became Andre’s perfect escape from his tormented home life. He spent every afternoon crawling through the cages, searching for anything still working that he could take home and use as a reason to hide in his room. Other scavengers collected outdated devices and parts to hack and modify into their own hybrid gadgets. Not Andre. He wanted things ready to use that would entertain and distract his increasingly chaotic mind.

On that day—with its misleading promise of a clear sky—he found an old wristlet, one of the first designs. He used his circuit tester to confirm it was in working condition, booted it up, and wrapped it around his wrist.

“I’ll swap you.”

The light voice from behind startled him. He spun around to face a thin, pale boy, hunched forward by the weight of a bulging pack on his back. The boy eyed the gadget on Andre’s wrist. Andre shrugged.

“What you got?”

The boy slid off his backpack and pulled out a silver, flat, rectangular box. “I found a working DVD player.” He pointed at Andre’s wristlet. “I’ll swap you this for that.”

Andre hesitated, already comfortable with the gadget against his skin. “Nah.”

“Finn!” a voice called from in the distance. The boy looked around, a worry in his eyes. He withdrew a small plastic container from his pack and held it forward. “I got a box of DVD’s, as well. They’re old Hollywood movies from last century. You can have these, too. All of ‘em.” The boy shook the container.

There’s gotta be fifty discs in there, Andre thought. He had never been good at math but he knew that fifty DVDs meant many hours of escape from reality. He was sold. He made the exchange, and the boy raced off toward the voice calling him, without a thank you or goodbye.

Bloody scavengers.

Clutching his precious player, and the hours of entertainment imprisoned in its shiny discs, Andre forgot the boy in the cages and raced home. Eager to immerse himself in the cinematic world where heroes were winners and bad guys came last—and there wasn’t ever a question about who the hell was who—he burst into his room and pounced onto the floor to set up the archaic machine.

Opening the box of DVDs, he discovered a 1980’s movie that would become his favorite—Superman II. He slid the disc into the player, sat back, and immersed himself in the struggle between good and evil. The costumes were ridiculous, but the faces of the villains—General Zod, the beautiful and deadly Ursa, and the docile mute Non—pressed flat against the claustrophobic, two-dimensional Phantom Zone prison as it spun through space, pleasantly terrified him. He let out a loud sigh of guilty relief when, after Superman threw a terrorist’s bomb out of the atmosphere to save the world, the detonation inadvertently shattered the Phantom Zone and freed the three Kryptonian criminals.

Yes!

He knew he shouldn’t have been cheering a bad man like Zod, but many times after, he really wished there were another version of the movie where General Zod won.

Egg


Andre’s fragile ten-year-old mind had been slow cooked in the steam of residual hate left behind by his dead father; the hate crouched in his mother’s eyes from behind her bourbon glass, and the hate nestled in his brother’s bitter heart. That was family.

Jeremy, five-years older and soaked with dark energy, used his size and age to his advantage, taking things from Andre, threatening him, beating him, dangling him over the walkways. Andre had fought back, but being smaller and weaker, his futile efforts were frustrating and emotionally debilitating. Dismissed by his mother as brotherly behavior, Jeremy’s tormenting became ever more brutal and sadistic. On the morning Jeremy held his switchblade to Andre’s throat and slit the skin of his little brother’s neck, he did it with a laugh, as if they were best of friends sharing a special moment.

“We’ve got no room for weakness in this house,” his mother had slurred, when Andre went crying to her, blood soaking his shirt. “You got to stand up for yourself, Andre,” she insisted, leaning so close to his tear-stained face that the sweet and sharp smell of alcohol on her breath stung his eyes, “or this world is gonna eat you up.”

That was just how things were. That was family.

By the time he was twelve, Andre stopped feeling anything, certain that was how things would be forever. Until, on one perfectly still, baby-blue-skied day, everything changed.

That day began with Andre rising early to avoid Jeremy’s morning volatility, and panned out like every other day—library, recreation hall, back to the library, then down to the cages in the e-waste district.

Lined in rows of towering wire-mesh rectangles, the cages were filled with Upper Brulle’s discarded technology, to be sorted and recycled into new devices. Upper Brulle’s insatiable consumer habits had flooded the recycling facility until it spread into an entire district spanning a platform connecting all four Stems. Stacked by automatic drones, and monitored by inadequate and badly maintained security, the district became Andre’s perfect escape from his tormented home life. He spent every afternoon crawling through the cages, searching for anything still working that he could take home and use as a reason to hide in his room. Other scavengers collected outdated devices and parts to hack and modify into their own hybrid gadgets. Not Andre. He wanted things ready to use that would entertain and distract his increasingly chaotic mind.

On that day—with its misleading promise of a clear sky—he found an old wristlet, one of the first designs. He used his circuit tester to confirm it was in working condition, booted it up, and wrapped it around his wrist.

“I’ll swap you.”

The light voice from behind startled him. He spun around to face a thin, pale boy, hunched forward by the weight of a bulging pack on his back. The boy eyed the gadget on Andre’s wrist. Andre shrugged.

“What you got?”

The boy slid off his backpack and pulled out a silver, flat, rectangular box. “I found a working DVD player.” He pointed at Andre’s wristlet. “I’ll swap you this for that.”

Andre hesitated, already comfortable with the gadget against his skin. “Nah.”

“Finn!” a voice called from in the distance. The boy looked around, a worry in his eyes. He withdrew a small plastic container from his pack and held it forward. “I got a box of DVD’s, as well. They’re old Hollywood movies from last century. You can have these, too. All of ‘em.” The boy shook the container.

There’s gotta be fifty discs in there, Andre thought. He had never been good at math but he knew that fifty DVDs meant many hours of escape from reality. He was sold. He made the exchange, and the boy raced off toward the voice calling him, without a thank you or goodbye.

Bloody scavengers.

Clutching his precious player, and the hours of entertainment imprisoned in its shiny discs, Andre forgot the boy in the cages and raced home. Eager to immerse himself in the cinematic world where heroes were winners and bad guys came last—and there wasn’t ever a question about who the hell was who—he burst into his room and pounced onto the floor to set up the archaic machine.

Opening the box of DVDs, he discovered a 1980’s movie that would become his favorite—Superman II. He slid the disc into the player, sat back, and immersed himself in the struggle between good and evil. The costumes were ridiculous, but the faces of the villains—General Zod, the beautiful and deadly Ursa, and the docile mute Non—pressed flat against the claustrophobic, two-dimensional Phantom Zone prison as it spun through space, pleasantly terrified him. He let out a loud sigh of guilty relief when, after Superman threw a terrorist’s bomb out of the atmosphere to save the world, the detonation inadvertently shattered the Phantom Zone and freed the three Kryptonian criminals.

Yes!

He knew he shouldn’t have been cheering a bad man like Zod, but many times after, he really wished there were another version of the movie where General Zod won.

Knees tucked under his chin, arms hugging his legs, he stared mesmerized as Zod forced the President of the United States to kneel before him. Engrossed, Andre didn’t notice his brother stride into the bedroom until Jeremy stood by the small TV and kicked it off its bench. The screen shattered, just like the glass of the Phantom Zone had when it released Zod.

Rage filled Andre like helium in a balloon. His hands clenched into fists and his head shook. Before he could react, however, Jeremy said, “Shit, bro, sorry ‘bout your TV. Hey, you wanna come for a walk?”

Stunned at the offer from his brother, Andre could only stare at him, as if flowers had sprouted from his ears and spirals spun in his eyes. Instead of those words coming out of Jeremy’s mouth, they may as well have been a lizard-long tongue unrolling itself with lollies pouring out like the winnings of some crazy jackpot machine.

“A walk?” Together?

“Sure,” Jeremy replied, shrugging and glancing at the broken TV. “If you’re not doin’ anything else. I wanna show you somethin’.”

Andre’s anger faltered, deflated, and seeped out of him in a slow release. He had never done anything with his brother besides fight. And here was Jeremy, asking him to hang out, like they’d been doing it for years. The invisible tendril of hostility that had bound the brothers and slowly dried out Andre’s heart to charcoal, seemed to just let go. Untethered, released, he felt ashamed of his aggression toward his own brother, as if maybe the tension between them had all been his own fault. The last of his bottled-up hatred rushed out of him and vanished in a puff of magician’s smoke.

Awash with emotion he had never allowed himself to feel—was it love?—Andre dared a smile, and followed his brother out of the apartment into the nightmare that would change him forever.

As Jeremy led Andre through the alleyway between Olive and Net Towers, Andre couldn't take his eyes off the switch blade in Jeremy’s hand, hypnotized by the metal blade sliding in and out of its sheath.

Snit-svit-snit-svit...

“Where are we going, Jez?” he asked, his voice bouncing with every step, and his feet almost floating off the ground.

Jeremy didn’t reply. He just kept walking down the twisting and turning stairways, flicking his blade in and out. He led them deeper and deeper into Lower Brulle, the sky vanishing above them behind the city spires. The walkways narrowed and steepened into claustrophobic crevices. Andre had never been down so far, and the tight spaces made his chest heavy, his breathing becoming labored. Finally, light filtered up from below. Coming to the bottom of the steps, he followed his brother out into the soft light of an underground park. Giant mirrors suspended overhead reflected the distant sun above, allowing trees and plant life to grow under the towers. The leaves and branches drooped heavy, however, like the ears and tail of a pet kept in a basement.

Smells bad, Andre thought. Smells real bad down here.

The contained earth squelched beneath their feet, and the smell of stale water seeped up through the ground as if the irrigation had failed.

—Turn back.—

The voice came from nowhere, like a scuba diver popping up out of the ocean when there was no boat around. Somehow, he knew he should listen to the voice—wherever it came from—but the magnetic pull of his brother’s promise drew him forward.

“Is this where we’re going, Jez?”

“Not long now, little bro. I’m gonna show you something,” Jeremy teased, not looking back. “Something just for you to see.”

“Just for me? Really? What is it?”

Again, Jeremy didn’t answer. He just trudged across the sodden grass toward a grove of trees, all the while flicking his blade.

Snit-svit-snit-svit…

As the brothers followed the path into the dense area, the trees thickened and branches leaned in. The stale earth smell filled Andre’s nose, bringing with it some other sulfuric odor. He stopped and watched his brother become a shadow in the dimming light.

“Jez.” His voice came out broken, teetering on the back of his throat, barely making it into sound before almost falling back down into the thing twitching in his stomach. “Should we go back, Jez?”

Jeremy stepped off the path and pointed down into the ravine running around the edge of the park. “We’re here.” He squatted and chuckled. “Come on, dopey. Come here. Light’s going.”

Andre’s hands shook and his heart pounded its bloody drum. His legs quivered and he hated it. He didn’t want Jeremy to see him afraid. This was his moment to show his brother how strong he could be, but he was terrified by the way Jeremy hunched like a giant toad by the ravine. Willing his legs to move, Andre hobbled to the edge and peered over. An indiscernible shape fidgeted in the shadowy bottom of the ravine.

“What is it?” His mind strained to recognize the shapes. Then, he heard a childlike voice.

“Hello, will you help me?”

Andre stepped back in shock, but Jeremy’s hand was faster, latching onto his little brother’s arm.

“It’s just a child-bot, dummy. It’s an old one. Probably someone from Upper Brulle got bored of their Christmas present and dumped it over the walkways.” Jeremy chuckled again. “Look at it.”

Andre’s vision adjusted to the darkness. The battered child-bot lay in a twisted pile of limbs and torso, its head facing backward. Components hung out of its side like guts. A red strip—appearing like dried blood in the low light—ran across eyes sparkling in the dark. A wave of prickles itched over his skin.

“How’s it still alive?” he asked his brother, attempting to stall whatever Jeremy had planned.

“It’s not alive, stupid. It’s just a machine. Still got some power left in it. But they really should’a finished it off.”

Jeremy let go of Andre’s arm and offered him the knife. Andre looked at the dark silver of the blade, then at Jeremy, unsure of what he was doing. He had never been that close, in such a still moment, to see so deeply into his brother’s eyes. There was nothing in Jeremy’s eyes, nothing but a bottomless darkness.

“And I’m letting you do it, Andre, cause you’re my little bro.”

Those words, they hugged Andre’s heart. He wanted to believe them. But Jeremy’s eyes weren’t dead anymore. They vibrated with a greedy, vacuumous quiver, as if they were sucking the last light out of the city and keeping it all for themselves. In the black-hole emptiness of Jeremy’s pupils, Andre glimpsed the dark thing that made his brother so angry. Its tentacles reached out and wrapped around Andre, as if it had lured him down into a trap. Icicles of adrenaline shot through his nervous system. His empty hand clawed in anticipation. A short, ridiculously high-pitched cackle escaped out of his terrifying joy, out of the car crash mix of all the emotion he was too young to understand. He let his desperate desire to believe in his brother’s camaraderie override the fear that he had been tricked into doing something terrible, and he took his brother’s knife. Jeremy’s own switchblade!

“Go on, bro,” Jeremy whispered, smiling. “Finish it.”

Andre’s body shook as he forced his legs to carry him down the ravine. Reaching the small, helpless android, he glanced up at Jeremy to make sure his brother was watching. “I’m gonna do it, Jez.”

Jeremy was but a black blob on the edge of the pathway, a gargoyle in the twilight. “Do it, little bro. Finish the job.” His words fell to the ground, heavy and final.

Andre turned back to the child-bot staring up at him.

“Hello,” it said, trying to turn its head around the right way. “Will you help me? I’m—”

Andre raised the knife into the air and plunged it into the android’s eye. Sparks sprayed the fading light. The child-bot convulsed and arched up in a spasm, a synthesized wail squealing out of its open, childlike mouth. Andre pulled back in terror.

It looks so human.

Jeremy’s sadistic chuckle floated down the ravine and sat on Andre’s shoulder. “Remember what Dad use to say, little bro? ‘If you're going to tell ‘em once, you might as well tell ‘em twice.’”

Andre raised the knife again, but the child-bot’s head shook from side-to-side, its wail grating against his raw nerves.

“Yes.” Jeremy’s voice slid into Andre’s mind, as if his brother had turned into a lizard and curled up in his ear. “Do it.”

“Will you help me?” the android gurgled.

I really need you to shut the hell up.

All the anger, all the frustration, all the raging fury he thought had vanished from his heart welled up like an underwater explosion and released itself. He stabbed the twitching android in the chest.

“Kill them, Andre.” Jeremy’s voice echoed through the darkness of the ravine. “Kill them.”

{Yessss}

Wrapped up in his frenzy, Andre never questioned who Jeremy meant by ‘them.’ He didn't notice Jeremy’s hissing voice had moved inside his head. He plunged the blade into the child-bot’s soft, artificial skin again and again. Sparks flew out of its eyes and oils seeped out of its insides. He stabbed and he stabbed, no longer caring if it screeched or squealed. In that moment, as he raged against all the times Jeremy had hit him, all he knew was the satisfaction of the stabbing, and the strength it imbued him with. He no longer saw the android’s face. It was Jeremy lying there in that ditch, smiling up at him through sparks and oil. Andre stabbed and stabbed, and the violence creeping around the caverns of his brother’s black-hive heart quietly laid its dark egg in his.

Knees tucked under his chin, arms hugging his legs, he stared mesmerized as Zod forced the President of the United States to kneel before him. Engrossed, Andre didn’t notice his brother stride into the bedroom until Jeremy stood by the small TV and kicked it off its bench. The screen shattered, just like the glass of the Phantom Zone had when it released Zod.

Rage filled Andre like helium in a balloon. His hands clenched into fists and his head shook. Before he could react, however, Jeremy said, “Shit, bro, sorry ‘bout your TV. Hey, you wanna come for a walk?”

Stunned at the offer from his brother, Andre could only stare at him, as if flowers had sprouted from his ears and spirals spun in his eyes. Instead of those words coming out of Jeremy’s mouth, they may as well have been a lizard-long tongue unrolling itself with lollies pouring out like the winnings of some crazy jackpot machine.

“A walk?” Together?

“Sure,” Jeremy replied, shrugging and glancing at the broken TV. “If you’re not doin’ anything else. I wanna show you somethin’.”

Andre’s anger faltered, deflated, and seeped out of him in a slow release. He had never done anything with his brother besides fight. And here was Jeremy, asking him to hang out, like they’d been doing it for years. The invisible tendril of hostility that had bound the brothers and slowly dried out Andre’s heart to charcoal, seemed to just let go. Untethered, released, he felt ashamed of his aggression toward his own brother, as if maybe the tension between them had all been his own fault. The last of his bottled-up hatred rushed out of him and vanished in a puff of magician’s smoke.

Awash with emotion he had never allowed himself to feel—was it love?—Andre dared a smile, and followed his brother out of the apartment into the nightmare that would change him forever.

As Jeremy led Andre through the alleyway between Olive and Net Towers, Andre couldn't take his eyes off the switch blade in Jeremy’s hand, hypnotized by the metal blade sliding in and out of its sheath.

Snit-svit-snit-svit...

“Where are we going, Jez?” he asked, his voice bouncing with every step, and his feet almost floating off the ground.

Jeremy didn’t reply. He just kept walking down the twisting and turning stairways, flicking his blade in and out. He led them deeper and deeper into Lower Brulle, the sky vanishing above them behind the city spires. The walkways narrowed and steepened into claustrophobic crevices. Andre had never been down so far, and the tight spaces made his chest heavy, his breathing becoming labored. Finally, light filtered up from below. Coming to the bottom of the steps, he followed his brother out into the soft light of an underground park. Giant mirrors suspended overhead reflected the distant sun above, allowing trees and plant life to grow under the towers. The leaves and branches drooped heavy, however, like the ears and tail of a pet kept in a basement.

Smells bad, Andre thought. Smells real bad down here.

The contained earth squelched beneath their feet, and the smell of stale water seeped up through the ground as if the irrigation had failed.

—Turn back.—

The voice came from nowhere, like a scuba diver popping up out of the ocean when there was no boat around. Somehow, he knew he should listen to the voice—wherever it came from—but the magnetic pull of his brother’s promise drew him forward.

“Is this where we’re going, Jez?”

“Not long now, little bro. I’m gonna show you something,” Jeremy teased, not looking back. “Something just for you to see.”

“Just for me? Really? What is it?”

Again, Jeremy didn’t answer. He just trudged across the sodden grass toward a grove of trees, all the while flicking his blade.

Snit-svit-snit-svit…

As the brothers followed the path into the dense area, the trees thickened and branches leaned in. The stale earth smell filled Andre’s nose, bringing with it some other sulfuric odor. He stopped and watched his brother become a shadow in the dimming light.

“Jez.” His voice came out broken, teetering on the back of his throat, barely making it into sound before almost falling back down into the thing twitching in his stomach. “Should we go back, Jez?”

Jeremy stepped off the path and pointed down into the ravine running around the edge of the park. “We’re here.” He squatted and chuckled. “Come on, dopey. Come here. Light’s going.”

Andre’s hands shook and his heart pounded its bloody drum. His legs quivered and he hated it. He didn’t want Jeremy to see him afraid. This was his moment to show his brother how strong he could be, but he was terrified by the way Jeremy hunched like a giant toad by the ravine. Willing his legs to move, Andre hobbled to the edge and peered over. An indiscernible shape fidgeted in the shadowy bottom of the ravine.

“What is it?” His mind strained to recognize the shapes. Then, he heard a childlike voice.

“Hello, will you help me?”

Andre stepped back in shock, but Jeremy’s hand was faster, latching onto his little brother’s arm.

“It’s just a child-bot, dummy. It’s an old one. Probably someone from Upper Brulle got bored of their Christmas present and dumped it over the walkways.” Jeremy chuckled again. “Look at it.”

Andre’s vision adjusted to the darkness. The battered child-bot lay in a twisted pile of limbs and torso, its head facing backward. Components hung out of its side like guts. A red strip—appearing like dried blood in the low light—ran across eyes sparkling in the dark. A wave of prickles itched over his skin.

“How’s it still alive?” he asked his brother, attempting to stall whatever Jeremy had planned.

“It’s not alive, stupid. It’s just a machine. Still got some power left in it. But they really should’a finished it off.”

Jeremy let go of Andre’s arm and offered him the knife. Andre looked at the dark silver of the blade, then at Jeremy, unsure of what he was doing. He had never been that close, in such a still moment, to see so deeply into his brother’s eyes. There was nothing in Jeremy’s eyes, nothing but a bottomless darkness.

“And I’m letting you do it, Andre, cause you’re my little bro.”

Those words, they hugged Andre’s heart. He wanted to believe them. But Jeremy’s eyes weren’t dead anymore. They vibrated with a greedy, vacuumous quiver, as if they were sucking the last light out of the city and keeping it all for themselves. In the black-hole emptiness of Jeremy’s pupils, Andre glimpsed the dark thing that made his brother so angry. Its tentacles reached out and wrapped around Andre, as if it had lured him down into a trap. Icicles of adrenaline shot through his nervous system. His empty hand clawed in anticipation. A short, ridiculously high-pitched cackle escaped out of his terrifying joy, out of the car crash mix of all the emotion he was too young to understand. He let his desperate desire to believe in his brother’s camaraderie override the fear that he had been tricked into doing something terrible, and he took his brother’s knife. Jeremy’s own switchblade!

“Go on, bro,” Jeremy whispered, smiling. “Finish it.”

Andre’s body shook as he forced his legs to carry him down the ravine. Reaching the small, helpless android, he glanced up at Jeremy to make sure his brother was watching. “I’m gonna do it, Jez.”

Jeremy was but a black blob on the edge of the pathway, a gargoyle in the twilight. “Do it, little bro. Finish the job.” His words fell to the ground, heavy and final.

Andre turned back to the child-bot staring up at him.

“Hello,” it said, trying to turn its head around the right way. “Will you help me? I’m—”

Andre raised the knife into the air and plunged it into the android’s eye. Sparks sprayed the fading light. The child-bot convulsed and arched up in a spasm, a synthesized wail squealing out of its open, childlike mouth. Andre pulled back in terror.

It looks so human.

Jeremy’s sadistic chuckle floated down the ravine and sat on Andre’s shoulder. “Remember what Dad use to say, little bro? ‘If you're going to tell ‘em once, you might as well tell ‘em twice.’”

Andre raised the knife again, but the child-bot’s head shook from side-to-side, its wail grating against his raw nerves.

“Yes.” Jeremy’s voice slid into Andre’s mind, as if his brother had turned into a lizard and curled up in his ear. “Do it.”

“Will you help me?” the android gurgled.

I really need you to shut the hell up.

All the anger, all the frustration, all the raging fury he thought had vanished from his heart welled up like an underwater explosion and released itself. He stabbed the twitching android in the chest.

“Kill them, Andre.” Jeremy’s voice echoed through the darkness of the ravine. “Kill them.”

{Yessss}

Wrapped up in his frenzy, Andre never questioned who Jeremy meant by ‘them.’ He didn't notice Jeremy’s hissing voice had moved inside his head. He plunged the blade into the child-bot’s soft, artificial skin again and again. Sparks flew out of its eyes and oils seeped out of its insides. He stabbed and he stabbed, no longer caring if it screeched or squealed. In that moment, as he raged against all the times Jeremy had hit him, all he knew was the satisfaction of the stabbing, and the strength it imbued him with. He no longer saw the android’s face. It was Jeremy lying there in that ditch, smiling up at him through sparks and oil. Andre stabbed and stabbed, and the violence creeping around the caverns of his brother’s black-hive heart quietly laid its dark egg in his.

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Artwork by Damien Lutz, with contributions by Jonny Gray