Breedbus

The effect was instantaneous. A wave of white noise screamed from her skull. The Breedbus’s lights exploded. Vess staggered, clutching her head as the four consciousnesses inside her began to war with each other. The yellow eye went wild. The blue eye wept.

Thorne was their finest—and most deranged—harvester. The Breedbus was his mobile clinic. He’d drive through the contaminated zones, scan the feral settlements, and "collect" anyone with a genetic marker above 0.5 on the Viability Index. He told himself he was a shepherd of the species. A necessary monster. breedbus

Thorne raised his dart pistol. Vess didn’t flinch. She simply raised her mismatched arm, and from her palm extended a bone-spur slick with black venom. The effect was instantaneous

The bus hummed as Thorne killed the engine. He turned to Kaelen and unclipped her restraints. “You’re the bait. He’s a rescuer type. Sees a shaved girl in a shock-collar, he’ll come running. You just have to stay still until the sedative darts kick in.” Vess staggered, clutching her head as the four

“What… what are you?” Vess gasped.

“You’re a rare thing,” Thorne said, not looking up from his datapad. “Post-Ghoul, pre-Fade. Clean telomeres. A ghost in the genetic graveyard.”