Siberian reached up and set Bonesaw down, and then was gone, one footstep carrying her into the midst of the crowd. She didn’t care if she hit anyone. Anyone unfortunate enough to be in her way was pulverized, their limbs broken, chests shattered and necks snapped by the impact.
We’ve barely gotten into the chapter and the killcounts are already skyrocketing.
Even those in the general area were caught by the flying bodies and hurt just as grievously.
Ouch.
Bonesaw laughed, and it was a sound without reservations, not shaped by social constraint or culture or self-censorship. It was the laugh of a child, free and without a care. One of her mechanical spiders leaped onto her back, and wound several of its limbs around her chest.
Oh look, a cute little murderous backpack for this sweet and murderous
and innocent
child!
…did I say murderous? I, uh, um, I meant… m… ma… musical! Sure, that’s it.
Two limbs extended to connect to her wrists, so the mechanical arms mirrored the dimensions and length of her own. The ends fanned out into an array of scalpels, needles, saws, and other instruments so one tool sat between each of her splayed fingers.
Looks like a handy device!
The smallest gestures of her hands forced instantaneous rearrangements of the tools, so another was ready for her to grasp and use. Two more spiders lunged forward and pulled one of Siberian’s screaming wounded away from the rest of the crowd, dragging it inch by inch toward the advancing Bonesaw.
Time for some on-site surgery?
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