Kingpouge | Laika [exclusive]

Kingpouge fell. Laika rose. And in the underworld of Nova Bastogne, the smart ones learned: never trust a king. But never, ever break the heart of his dog.

But even a king needs a court, and every court has its fool. Or, in this case, its hound.

She hated the way he stroked her fur with his cold, chrome-plated fingers, calling her his "good little monster." She hated the way he fed her the still-warm hearts of his rivals, watching with detached curiosity as she crunched the organic matter mixed with circuitry. She hated that she was bound to him not by love, but by a kill-switch embedded in her cybernetic spine. One press of a button on his wrist-comp, and she'd seize, then burn out like a blown fuse. kingpouge laika

Kingpouge screamed her name as the Silk Worms swarmed him. But Laika was already gone, bounding across fire escapes and collapsing scaffolds, a mongrel ghost with a crown's worth of secrets in her teeth.

Her name was .

Kingpouge froze. His hand twitched toward his wrist-comp.

His comp beeped. Fizzled. Died.

"No."