Subject 15
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Lights played across the fogged-up back windows of the car. It smelled of cheap spirits and cigarette smoke. He was curled up under a thin blanket. He had kicked off his shoes, and his toes were cold from the holes in his crusty socks. Melody had finally relented and let him use her as a…
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Fane traipsed out of the ship and through the dark machinists field into the middle section of the warehouse. He made his way down to the infirmary where he peeled off the electrodes speckling his skin and tossed them in the bin. He dug around in the first aid kit and found antiseptic spray, gauze,…
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Ishan Orlov lay awake in his bed. He was numb and hollow. He had cried himself empty until his eyes were puffy and raw.
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There had not been as much improvement with the regiment in the past month as Fane had hoped. Running speed and shot accuracy had improved; however, many social and cultural traditions impeded progress at every turn.
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Fane woke to a throbbing headache. The last thing he remembered was walking into a dance club with Shelly, Ajay, and the prince. The sky shifted to a soft grey in the window, jasmine dancing against the pane. He scrambled to sit up. “Oh, crap! I’m going to be late.”
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“You got a glitch?” Marjorta grabbed Fane by the shoulders to steady him.
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“Is this what you do in the evenings when I leave you here?” Fane leaned against Prince Orlov’s doorframe to watch the man hacking and slashing at the air in his Nurvo Gear.
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“You want me to believe this djinn newb has never played in a gear before? At that level?” A built half-orc woman looked the party up and down.
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Fane stood inside a massive wood-panelled hall with a high elf, an orc, and a mouse person. Tables crowded with a variety of beast people, elves, and other species sprawled across the big room. A few waved and called out to Ishan and the team.
Chapel Orahamm 