Adonis stepped out of his car, the heavy, reinforced soles of his combat boots splashing into a shallow puddle of rainwater. He reached up, a sleek, black, ballistic-grade umbrella snapping open with a sharp mechanical click.
He held it perfectly level over his broad shoulders, his black leather jacket entirely shielded from the drizzle.
The rationing center was a grim, blocky structure, currently cordoned off by glowing, high-voltage holographic police tape.
Automated pacification drones hovered in the sky, their searchlights cutting through the heavy rain. In the center of the restricted zone, a dark tarp covered the remains of the human who had been slaughtered.
Standing over the tarp was General K-09.
The warlord did not use an umbrella. The rain hissed and steamed against his dark leather jacket. His optical sensors glowed a piercing, lethal red in the gloom, analyzing the blood spatter patterns on the concrete.
