Leo tried to sit up, but his body felt new. Too light. Too quiet. No ache in his knees, no thrum of caffeine in his blood. He looked at his hands. They were pale—not pale like a sick man, but pale like porcelain. Ivory.
A figure stepped from the shadows. She was tall, dressed in a white lab coat over a black voidsuit. Her hair was the color of bleached bone. Blaire , her name tag read. Not Doctor Blaire. Just Blaire . Like Madonna. Or a storm.
“I find the driver of that truck. The one that turned me into soup.”
Leo tried to sit up, but his body felt new. Too light. Too quiet. No ache in his knees, no thrum of caffeine in his blood. He looked at his hands. They were pale—not pale like a sick man, but pale like porcelain. Ivory.
A figure stepped from the shadows. She was tall, dressed in a white lab coat over a black voidsuit. Her hair was the color of bleached bone. Blaire , her name tag read. Not Doctor Blaire. Just Blaire . Like Madonna. Or a storm.
“I find the driver of that truck. The one that turned me into soup.”
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