SUNDAY SNIPPET

I just went over 20000 words this week.  I haven't been able to say that for a while.

Thanks for your continuing interest and support.


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     The red titan turned his attention back to the grim, unhappy captive in front of him.


     “Hey, looks like we have to make our own way back to base, so you’re stuck with me, pal,” the Headhunter said. “Again, Selfsame ident Eight-dash-six. Query: unit ident?”


     The Model Nine pilot wavered. The Headhunter knew the fight going on inside the being’s head. Nines were programmed from the bio-vat to fight and die for the Gatekeepers, their ‘Benevolent Masters,’ without question or doubt. The crimson monstrosity smiled down at his fellow being.


     “C’mon, bro, if I wanted you dead,” the Headhunter said, flexing a menagerie of claws, saws, and other implements from his suite of built-in weaponry, “I would have chopped and diced you up a dozen ways by now. The fact that you’re still alive shows that the ‘Benevolent Masters’ aren’t completely correct about me. Let’s talk, instead. Maybe I’ll convince you of the worthiness of our cause.”


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Best,

JBR

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