He barks a rough laugh, temporarily standing close enough for her comment to carry across the street. It had been too loud earlier, when the cars overturned and exploded — the screech of tortured metal, the roar of flames — but it's getting quieter as the battle mops up and starts to peter out. A good number of their enemies are fleeing now, living to fight another day. Wise of them.
"They've got bigger numbers now, thanks to the Porter," Luther says, sounding almost conversational, as if a van isn't sitting upside-down behind him, as if he isn't standing over another shattered corpse. "Probably makes them bold."
The City had been stable: no one in, no one out, and the meta population frozen at a particular number. For years. No more unnerving Port-outs, no more lurking itching fear that his loved ones — loved one — might vanish overnight. He finds himself irritated by the fact that it's started up again, and taking it out on others; as if it's the fault of these rebels on this highway, in this fight. It isn't. He knows it isn't. And yet.
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"They've got bigger numbers now, thanks to the Porter," Luther says, sounding almost conversational, as if a van isn't sitting upside-down behind him, as if he isn't standing over another shattered corpse. "Probably makes them bold."
The City had been stable: no one in, no one out, and the meta population frozen at a particular number. For years. No more unnerving Port-outs, no more lurking itching fear that his loved ones — loved one — might vanish overnight. He finds himself irritated by the fact that it's started up again, and taking it out on others; as if it's the fault of these rebels on this highway, in this fight. It isn't. He knows it isn't. And yet.