Page 113 of The Gathering
“But why is Handy laughing like he lived it,” Quantum mused.
“Because he did,” Fathom said. “Bishop’s DNA is now a part of him.”
“So… how do we plan to ride two hundred men out of here?” Spook asked, pulling them back to it.
****
This was no Noctambule war.
But the scars from that war had changed all of them.
Made them quieter. Slower. Deadlier.
Bullets had never imagined the army that stood before him.
Thirteen Marsh Kings and their second in commands. Twelve Creole Kings and their Verthurs. Bishop’s blood brothers. Handy and Sinrik. Zodak. That one called Kaphas. The dude Seer had touched and never recovered from—Kult. And his brothers. Just like them, all from other mothers. Pain. Harlow. Atlas. Synth. No, Sync. And the one that housed all their minds in his body. Augustine. Religious like Seer. Just lost the woman he loved. Standing there, ready to go to war. Nothing to lose. Nothing to gain.
Bullets could fathom it. Had lived it for years. Until Mia.
God help that dude find his Mia when it was time.
He looked around. All that was missing was Quantum King and the Triplets. And the twenty-five metal men he’d made.
Still couldn’t believe half of it was real. Mia was his miracle. All this shit going down? Beyond his scope of the divine. He was a spectator. A back seat rider. Stand where you tell me, do what you say, I’m there.
Bullets turned at Hurricane’s “Ho-lee-fuck.”
He looked and saw Bacon coming up the hill with a dozen of his men. Bullets grinned. “Now that’s something you never see.”
Bare-chested meat cleaving militia decked out in black rubber aprons with big-ass butcher blades strapped on.
“Hell, that’s fucking beautiful,” Jek muttered. “But I thought it was supposed to be just his second in command.”
“T-Biscuits has truly grown up,” August said, coming to stand with them.
Patches sucked on a joint and passed it to Lesion, quipping, “Terrifying,” around his hit.
“Hey.” Traps eyed Lesion. “You got some special juice for the normies since Boss is holding all the power for himself?”
Bishop stepped into their circle. “Don’t worry, mon frerr. Your time is coming sooner than you realize.” He regarded Bacon and crew. “Mon Dieu, what is he doing?”
Lesion passed Traps the joint and pulled several more from his pocket, handing them over.
Traps took them and turned to his crew. “Fire these up. Lesion specialty.”
There were no questions. Every man trusted the Alchemist with their lives, even after the Bat Bite.
“You ready?” Bullets asked, stepping next to Eveque.
“Fucking ready,” he sighed, looking at his watch then around. “Everybody here?”
“Just waiting on our AI crew,” Spook said, eyeing the bayou edge.
Bishop turned to Bacon and his meat machine, calling him over.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Bacon said, hands already animated. “I was told to bring my second in command, but here’s the thing. I don’t really have one of those. In the chop shop, there’s just me and my men, meat and bones, blood and blades.” He stepped closer. “And… I may have told them they were really needed.”
Bullets chuckled and Bishop nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, it wouldn’t be a lie. And we got room, so, tell ‘em I said welcome aboard.”
