Page 197 of Godslayer
With a whimper, he turns.
“Hello, puppet. Whatcha got there?” The Versi—still updating— sits in my thigh pocket. I’m gonna get my hands on this one. After what he’s done, he deserves a more personal exit from this world.
His face warps into something meant to be a smile, but comes off more like a partial paralysis. “You’re the puppet!” He screams, words echoing down the dark, wet tunnels. “You! Not Luther! You’re a monster! All monsters, ‘cept for Luther!”
I blow out a breath, kinda speechless. It’s sad, really.
“Don’t look at me,” he snarls. “Nothing to see! Luther is nothing to look at!”
I don’t bother taunting him. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna kill you now and take my gear. Would you like to… run? Or something? Or should I just get on with it?”
Luther doesn’t run. Doesn’t scream. Just tilts his head and gives me a crooked, yellow-toothed smile like this is all some inside joke only he understands. “We unspooled her good, didn’t we?” he hisses. “Cracked her open like a cherry. All that spark, drip-drip-dripping out?—”
I move. No hesitation. My hand closes around his throat mid-sentence, slamming him into the tunnel wall so hard the wet pipes above rattle.
He claws at me. Gasps. Eyes bulging.
I squeeze harder.
No words. No mercy.
Just pressure until his eyes go glassy and blood vessels burst.
Then I let him drop. Like trash.
I pull out the Versi—78%—shoulder my rucks, and move deeper in to the tunnels.
Fuck the augments, I’ve got a laser-focus on Epsilon now.
One more kill, then we’re out.
The further in I go, the quieter it gets. No more claws on steel. No ragged breathing in the dark. Just silence—tight, coiled, waiting. When the tunnels widen, pipework gives way to polished walls, flickering with low emergency light. Factory core. Lab zone. I know the stink of it—burned metal, chemicals, blood that’s gone stale in the vents.
He’s close.
Not hiding. Waiting.
Good.
Let him wait.
I check the Versi. 93%.
Not enough to relax. More than enough to kill a god.
I keep moving.
A four-way intersection ahead. I’ve just barely processed this when the air shifts. I don’t see him—I feel him. Static behind my eyes. Stench of rot all around me.
Then—movement.
From the side. Fast. Too fast.
I twist, raise the Versi—but I’m not fast enough. Somethingstabsinto my side. It doesn’t feel like a blade. It feels…wet. A fleshypuncture. Like a wasp the size of a man has jabbed me with a syringe full of fire. My ribs explode in pain. Nerve endings ignite. And then comes theinjection.
Oh fuck.
Whatever’s inside me—it’s moving. Twisting. Unfurling like aliving thread, crawling beneath my skin. I can feel itburrowing—trying to hook into something. To find a home.Rewire my threads. Rewrite my DNA. Like it wants totake me over.
