Spring 1969 – A Patchwork of Rage and Pain


Eddie swung his huge fist. It connected with and collapsed Armbruster’s jaw with a hideous wet crunch. Blood and teeth spurted from his mouth as he staggered back, screaming. He dropped to his knees, his hands scratching at the floor as if he were trying to recover his missing ivories. Eddie delivered a kick to Armbruster’s chest. The sound of splintering ribs accompanied his flight across the room. His passage stopped at the concrete wall. Other than a burble as he attempted to cough up blood, the man made no sound. 

Cyclone unsheathed her blades. I hefted my hammer. It felt good to have company.