Chapter 6: Luwelen

The bullet was hardly a threat. The shooter must have been a beginner, or maybe just bad, and the bullet hole appeared in the plaster five feet away, not Luwelen’s forehead as intended. She wasn’t going to count on her assailant’s incompetence again, though, and she broke into a full sprint. She ducked behind a fabricator, one of 16 ugly, metal, dumpster-sized machines vibrating and humming in the warehouse. She kept her speed steady, ducking her head to block a second shot, sprinting around the corner. She lept in the direction of the shot’s origin, landing implausibly on her feet on the adjacent fabricator. Her knees bent and sprung back into an extension that sent her careening up and forward, landing on a short man with an absurd goatee.