Between the unconscious bodies on the ground from Jaclyn’s attack, and my sonic blast, Prime’s people hung back until one of of them shouted, “Move!”
Well, if I could call them Prime’s people.
Some of them looked professional — black (probably bulletproof) vests, belts with pouches, knives, and guns. The rest looked like they’d been pulled from local (and not so local) street gangs.
They had guns too — not submachine guns like the professionals, mostly handguns.
Continue reading War: Part 8