Three trails. I stopped in mid-air.
Fuck.
Siberian?
Three?
I gave chase to the nearest one, abandoning Atlas to pursue the subject into an alley, through a hole in the wall and into a derelict building, past a pile of rubble… this wasn’t right.
Yeah, this sounds like Siberian.
So what about the other two, is one of the trails Siberian’s real body instead of Jack or Bonesaw?
It was too nimble, moving through spaces too small for even Bonesaw.
Oh, I guess it might just be one of the spiders.
And before I even returned to Atlas, there were a half-dozen trails in total that were branching out around us. In another few minutes, there were a dozen.
Good move, Bonesaw. Good move.
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