the smuggler’s bible


The opposition is packing more hardware than they had expected. Juliet crouches in the hallway under the windows. Shards of glass grind under her boots and reflect the fluorescent panels in the ceiling. Across the lab, a rifle sputters and flechettes clatter against the wall nearby, stirring up dust. Juliet shoots back without bothering to aim.

Kyomori peers around the corner and moves toward her, staying low.

“I count six,” he says. “Tactical—the real deal.”

Juliet shrugs. “At least they don’t have grenades.”

“They have them,” Kyomori says, “and they’ll use them if they think they can’t stop us.”