the smuggler’s bible

Drago

Drago opens the throttle and roars past a minivan with about thirty kids clambering around inside. The parents are rigid, radiating anxiety like exposed reactor cores.

Why stress, ya know? Drago thinks. The shielding is breached, baby. Forget about containment and head for shelter before the blast.

Up ahead, the first sign of Silver City appears on the horizon as a shimmering haze of sunlight reflecting off a thousand square miles of concrete and glass and neon tubes. It’s bright, but the breeze sure feels nice.

Yeah, why stress? Wait until it all cools off, then party in the crater.