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Whoa.

August 08, 2009  Author: Anthony Pacheco Category: The Craft   0 Comments

Where the heck did the week go?

Oh, that’s right, working.

Wow that was a lot of work.

But wow, boy did I also do a lot of writing. Observe, my pets!

“Let’s do this,” I say and turn the recording equipment back on. “Cause of death appears to be from internal damage from multiple gunshot wounds.”

“Interesting hypothesis, Lieutenant. Explain.”

“When a wælcyrie is shot, her body closes the wound almost immediately. All these white spots on her skin? Entry points. If we flip her over…”

I flip her over.

“There. Exit wounds, at least some. Only slightly larger, indicative of pistol, not rifle, rounds.”

I flip her back over. “I count fifteen spots. A standard magazine load out.”

“Fifteen. Possible indication of rage and hate.”

“Not necessarily. It takes a lot of effort to kill a wælcyrie. A lot of effort.”

“It seems you have more experience with wælcyrie than I do, Lieutenant.”

A feeling of loss washes through me, but I shove it aside. Now is not the time to start treating death like a normal person.

“Only the dead ones, my Captain,” I whisper, “only the dead ones.”

I press virtual buttons and the robotics around me come alive.

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