Rhapsody 0: Prologue
The rain drummed against the roof of the bus stop, a steady, rhythmic sound. Minos jumped as the sudden clanging of a trashcan being knocked over echoed through the empty street. The backstreets were dangerous at the best of times... and now was definitely one of the worse times.
He glanced down at his watch nervously. 2:40 AM. In 34 minutes, the sweepers would arrive. The briefcase in his hand, despite only containing paperwork, felt like a sack of bricks.
He could feel his heart ticking in his chest. A strange sensation, one that he doubted he'd ever fully acclimate to. When they showed him his charts after the surgery, he could count the number of organs that were still biological on one hand. They all sat in his torso, ticking and whirring, constant foreign sounds that never seemed to fade into the background.
He pulled out a carton of cigarettes - his favorite brand. Smiling Smokes. A cartoonish Smiling Face member was plastered across the front of the carton, cheerfully distracting any observer from the dozens of health warnings littered on the rest of the packaging. Minos pulled one of them from the carton and raised it before cursing under his breath.
<Shit... No mouth...>
His voice was dull and electronic - his voicebox exchanged for a mechanical replacement. This was going to be a hard habit to break. Just his luck. The one vice he could now indulge in without consequence, and he lacked the anatomy for it.
The click of a lighter, and a small flame joins the dim neon of the bus stop. Minos turns his head and sees his companion (or 'independent security contractor,' as the company introduced him) sitting next to him. The man tipped his hat slightly.
"Got a light. Mind if I bum a smoke?"
Minos sighed as he handed the cigarette to his companion. It wasn't like he would be using them anytime soon.
"Much obliged."
The man took the cigarette and brought it to his lips, the flames of his lighter illuminating his gruff expression as he lit it and took a deep drag.
Joseph Ringo. That was the Fixer's name. Minos never heard of the man before, but if he was hired by the company, it either meant he was very good at what he did, or he was as desperate for their help as Minos was. And considering he didn't have a fucking heart for a head, Minos was hoping it was the former.
The pair sat in silence as the rain continued to pour. Minos checked his watch again.
2:44 AM. Felt like much more time had passed than that... Must be the nerves. He tapped his feet against the wet and cracked sidewalk, praying to see the headlights come into view. Ringo, for his part, seemed completely unbothered, laid out on the bench and taking nearly all the space. He folded his hands behind his head and tipped his hat over his eyes as he spoke.
"Stay cool. You've got the ace shot of Zwei South Section 2 by your side. Nobody's coming for us except the dispatch."
<I'm more worried about the dispatch than anything else,> Minos muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain. <The company said they'd be here. They're cutting it close.>
Ringo chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "That's how you know they're pros. Never early, never late. Always just in time to make your new heart tick a little faster. Builds character."
Yeah, and if the sweepers come first, it'll be a ticking smear on the ground... Minos shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. The man had a point. Zwei was one of the best Associations for a reason. Even if the bus didn't come, Ringo would get his client to safety. He'd probably just chuck him through the window of the nearest residence, making him a non-target for the Sweepers.
Not a pleasant thought. He checked his watch again. 2:46 AM. They still had time.
Still had plenty of time.
Minos stood still as Ringo laid on the bench, seemingly asleep. He couldn't tell if the dull throb in his head was a normal headache or the beating of his new 'heart'. The Company wouldn't go through the trouble of ripping out all his organs and shoving in clockwork just to let him die. Wouldn't pay the price of a Grade 1 Fixer with a cannon for a handgun just to let them get swarmed by sweepers.
More time passed. Minos checked his watch like it was a wound.
2:48 AM. 2:51 AM. 2:55 AM.
3:00 AM.
In the distance, Minos heard the unmistakable sound of a train horn. He nearly jumped as a shadowed vehicle turned onto their street, headlights blindingly bright. Ringo seemingly woke with a start, slowly sliding out of his place on the bench and scratching the back of his head.
"Yep, here they come now. Even had time to spare."
Minos watched as the vehicle raced towards the pair, but quickly stepped back as it took a hard turn. The wheels skidded on the rain-slicked pavement, the ground shaking as it drifted into the building in front of the pair. The wall was damaged, though far less than it should have been for such a large vehicle. The 'bus' looked more like the autistic child of a train locomotive, but it was hard to complain about aesthetics in a situation like this. The words 'LIMBUS COMPANY' were boldly written across the side in golden text, their neon glow flickering slightly from the collision. The door hissed open, and the chaotic sounds of arguing and yelling escaped into the Backstreets.
"-ook at that! HA! TOLD YOU FUCKERS WE WOULD MAKE IT! EAT SHI-it, I can never get used to that fuckin aug. The hell's that thing even do, mate?"
Sitting in the Driver's seat was an orange-haired man with a flask in his hand. Despite only having his uniform assigned to him a week or so ago, it had been torn and thoroughly stained with a variety of chemicals, to the point it was bleached in some spots. He was also the only Sinner that Minos was already acquainted with - Edward Hyde. They had met very briefly after Minos' surgery - the crazed man, introduced to Minos as a brilliant scientist, stabbed him in the arm with a giant fucking syringe and injected him with god-knows-what. After punching him in the face and nearly getting into a brawl, the man seemed to be shocked that his 'Elixir' had failed to affect Minos. They had a brief exchange about what they did to each other's mothers, before the asshole left - presumably to shoot more people up with crazy drugs.
As the man took a swig from the flask, Minos was quickly beginning to understand why they cut their arrival so close. Why they chose to let a drunk take the wheel was a question he'd have to bring up with the sinners when things coold down. He ignored the man's coarse language, hurriedly pulling himself onto the bus. Even though he wasn't fond of Hyde, he was very glad to see him instead of a pack of sweepers. Ringo leisurely climbed onto the bus after him, the doors hissing shut behind him moments later.
The bus appeared much larger on the inside than it had any right to be - both wider, and judging by the door at the end, far, far longer. Other than the driver, eight other figures were present on the bus.
Directly behind the driver was a man with white hair and what looked like knight's pauldrons over his uniform, his face pressed against the glass and fists trembling. Besides him was a beautiful red-haired woman, who lightly stroked his hair as he cried out.
"Ah!! Those poor civilians! With damage like that, the sweepers might deign to attack them despite their residency... And with this accursed rain, I cannot come to their aide! Curse you Hyde, you villain! How dare you take the reigns of our transport while imbibing spirits!!!"
"Shh, shh... It's okay, brother... They'll be fine so long as they stay inside. Look, a building can't just be one room, right? Even if they squeeze in through a hole in the wall, the humans can just hide in a closet till morning. It's okay..."
A blonde woman sat immediately behind them. She wore the robes of the Dieci Association over her Sinner uniform, and was one of the more relaxed Sinners on the bus. A mountain of books covered every inch of the bench she sat on, threatening to topple over at the slightest brush. She peaked over the seat, interjecting into the conversation the siblings in front of her were having.
"Yes yes, they'll be fine if they sequester themselves in a separate room - even with the doors wide open, the sweepers dare not enter any establishment designated as a residence. The bigger issue..."
She clutched at her robes a pained expression crossing her face.
"We hit a library! If the storm grows much worse, it could damage the knowledge stored within! Our cur of a driver is condemning these Backstreets to illiteracy..."
Minos took a step back, his gaze lingering on the trio. All three of them had the same tell-tale crimson eyes. A shared aesthetic choice, he told himself. Just augments. The Company was insane, but surely not that insane.
Across the aisle was a larger man, muscular. He was on the older end of the spectrum compared to the others, the age lines on his face almost as deep as the bags under his eyes. He was reading from a small religious text, a miraculous feat considering the cacophony around him. The book he read looked vaguely familiar - Minos vaguely recalled seeing a similar one held by members of the Index during a business trip to District 18. Unlike the Index, however, this man did not have a look of blind reverence to him. Instead, his eyes were heavy and held a deep and poignant expression. The solemn appraisal one might give a freshly dug grave. Besides the man was a massive blade, easily the size of some of the smaller Sinners. Far heavier too, more likely than not.
His eyes raised from the text on the page, and Minos quickly turned his gaze elsewhere.
A few rows behind him, sitting alone, was a man who seemed utterly detached from the surrounding chaos. He wore his Sinner uniform with a preternatural neatness, as if it were a bespoke tuxedo from a high-end Nest tailor. His posture was perfect, his hands resting calmly on the handle of a sleek black umbrella that stood propped against his seat. He gazed out the window at the rain-streaked neon signs, an expression of thoughtful placidity on his face. Minos, a former executive himself, recognized the air of quiet confidence that only came from significant power or wealth. This one was an anomaly even among the other freaks. He didn't seem stressed, or angry, or afraid. He just seemed... patient.
It was unnerving. Better to move on.
Near the rear of the bus was a white haired woman. She looked like the most normal person here, seemingly on the verge of tears. Whether it was because of the freaks surrounding her or the fact that the sweepers were only minutes away from appearing was anyone's guess. Regardless, Minos felt a kinship with her. She looked up, red eyes looking him up and down, before turning her gaze back to the floor. She closed her eyes and breathed in a slow and steady pattern, a practiced act that she must have repeated countless times before. Her grip on the shovel next to her tightened.
Were they in more danger than he thought?
In the far back, two obscenely augmented women were chatting with one another. One of them held her mechanical arm in the light and extended her fingers, testing them as they twisted at the joints with absurd speed, her finger tips like drill bits. The other girl, a woman with augmented legs so large that she was incapable of easily being seated in the bus, knelt and toyed with a hatch on the side of her foot. The hatch opened with a hiss, steam and radiating heat escaping as a vent was exposed to open air. The temperature in the entire bus had risen by a degree or two before she closed the hatch. The woman with the metal arms immediately began chattering about 'inertial dampeners' or something equally out of Minos' depth.
"The heat sink's cycling faster now," the woman with the massive legs noted, her voice higher and more feminine than Minos expected. "Overclocking puts a lot of strain on it, though. Feel like I'm gonna melt my legs off one of these days."
"Better than getting crushed by a couple dozen times Earth's gravity," the other replied, not looking up from her hand. "My last rig's backup processor was a cheap piece of scrap. Would have crushed me into paste if I my spinal column wasn't reinforced. This one's... better."
They were... not what he expected. Minos was used to working in a Wing. The employees he knew were well-disciplined, loyal, and above all obedient. Even the contracted Fixers knew to keep quiet and obey their superiors. Most of the Sinners weren't even sparing him a glance.
Minos took a deep, mechanical breath, the whirring in his chest picking up tempo. He was used to giving public speeches to boardrooms and meetings - but this was the first time he'd be doing it with people that could kill him with a flick of the wrist. Had to project power while he could. Show them that he was a proper manager.
The dull clang of metal-on-metal ringed throughout the bus as Minos tapped one of his pistols against the pole next to the Driver's Seat. The sound cut through the various discussions. Dozens of eyes, some interested, some vacant, and at least a few annoyed were now on Minos as he spoke.
<Alright, settle down. My name is Mr. Minos. As of this moment, I am your Manager.>
<Before we get into the specifics of our arrangement, let's get acquainted. We're going to be working together for the foreseeable future. Names would be a start.> He gestured to the driver.
"Mate, we've been on this bus for the last two days. Trust me, we've done the whole 'hi, how you doing' shtick'."
Silence rang out for several tense seconds. Thankfully, the red-haired woman beside the distraught knight moved to break it. She offered a warm, if slightly strained, smile as she spoke. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Minos. I'm Desdemona. And this is my..." She paused, glancing at the man beside her. "...brother, Lancelot. I'm sorry we were so late in picking you up."
Lancelot merely gave a stiff, formal nod, his gaze still fixed on the damaged library. "Lance, if you'd prefer, Manager..." he confirmed, his voice low and resonant.
The blonde in the Dieci robes stood slightly, giving a polite bow. "Morella. I look forward to a productive and enlightening partnership, Manager!"
Minos's eyes moved to the older man, who slowly closed his book, marking his page with a finger. "Demi Karras," he said, his voice a quiet baritone. His gaze was unnervingly direct.
The anxious woman with the shovel shifted in her seat when Minos looked at her. "Carter." She floundered for a moment before continuing. "Just... Just Carter's fine."
The two heavily augmented women in the back were next. The one with the mechanical arm crossed them over her chest. "Fenrir." Her tone had a hint of hostility, and unlike Hyde, she looked like she could actually be a problem if she lashed out at him. The woman with the mechanical legs thankfully interposed between the two, waving her hands and smiling as she introduced herself. "A-and I'm Damsel~! Let me know if you have shoes in a size 60, hehe... heh..."
Hyde and Desdemona chuckled at the joke, likely for completely different reasons. The rest of the bus sat in silence.
The final sinner stared out the window. Several moments pass before he closed his eyes.
"3:13 AM."
Minos paused at that - confusion crossed his mind only for a moment, before an encroaching anxiety took over. In the distance, he heard them. The thundering of footsteps. The screams of those caught outside. The whirring of machinery.
A sound so familiar to his own body now.
Within moments, a mass of mechanical bodies swarmed down the street, flowing around the bus like water might move around a stone. They were so close, one could roll down the window and touch them. Of course, doing that would earn you a severed arm. The sweepers were not so lenient as to leave anything in their path intact.
Carter, Morella and the unnamed Sinner seemed completely at ease, while the rest of the Sinners were in similar states of caution or anxiety. Even Ringo, who had otherwise been relaxed this entire time, had bothered to lift his hat and put a hand on his pistol. Hyde seemed particularly nervous, sliding in his seat until he was under the dashboard, as if it would conceal him from the sweepers.
"No need to be nervous." Carter called out. "The company filed a residency license for the bus. So long as we stay aboard the Mephistopheles, we will remain safe from the sweepers."
"How'd you know that?! I've been with the company for two weeks and they tell me bullshite about that!"
"It was in the employee handbook, if you'd read it..." Morella muttered under her breath.
A soft chuckle echoed through the bus. Minos and the rest of the Sinners turned to face the unnamed Sinner who had signaled the sweepers arrival. He touched the handle of his umbrella, a slight, almost imperceptible smile crossing his face.
"Watson. You can call me Watson, Manager Minos."
His words hung in the air, before a crude and higher-pitched voice filled the silence.
"Alright then, we exchanged business cards or whatever - now on with it. Explain what we're here for."
"That was also in the employee handbook... and the contracts we signed..."
<Uhm... I understand you were all… recruited… under various circumstances. Promised different rewards in exchange for your services. But from this point forward, you are all employees of Limbus Company. Sinners, to be precise.>
He opened the briefcase he’d been clutching, revealing a stack of contracts printed on strangely durable paper. He held one up for them all to see.
<This is your new reality, so listen closely.> His voice, projected by some internal device, was flat and devoid of emotion. Like an executive describing the latest quarterly reports, rather than the life and death struggles of a Fixer. <By entering this bus, you have agreed to the terms of service. The primary benefit of which is this: you cannot permanently die. Should you suffer a fatal injury in the field, the manager - Me - will reconstruct you, body and mind intact, right where you died.> A few of the Sinners stirred. Made sense - even if they were told about the resurrections beforehand, it was unheard of for a non-Wing to possess the requisite technology whilst evading retribution from the Head.
If they knew the full extent of the rewinding, they'd be even more stunned. Carter perked up at this, attention fully on Minos as he continued.
<However,> Minos continued, his tone hardening slightly, <this process is not without cost. Every time I bring you back, I'll have to suffer the pain of your death. I've never died before, but I would assume it hurts like hell. Let alone nine of them at once. So... Try to avoid it, for my sake, okay?>
"Givin us life insurance, yeah we get it. Standard operating procedure at M-Corp, mate. Can just say 'leave your brains intact, you'll be right in a jiffy'. Don't gotta make a production of it, yeah?"
Hyde laughed at his own comment, pulling out his flask. He brought it to his lips and took several greedy sips, before Minos snatched the drink from his grip.
"Wh- THE HELL!? Oi retard, the fuck you on!?"
<You're driving, right? Can't drink. Corporate policy. I'm confiscating this for now. Press the issue and I'll report it to upper management.>
The orange-haired man growled. For a moment, it looked like he would lash out at the manager. But as he saw Ringo reach a hand down to his holster, he bit his lip and seemed to relent to Minos' decision. He rose from the driver seat and moved to join the rest of the Sinners. As he passed he muttered some expletives under his breath, which Minos pretended not to hear.
<This isn't life-insurance. This is rewinding you back to the state you were in before you died. Doesn't matter if you're burned to ash, ripped to shreds, or dissolved into a puddle. I can bring you back if you make a contract with me.>
Morella seemed horrified, jumping to her feet and interjecting.
"T-that's insane! Resurrection is forbidden by the Head! Even the most advanced life-insurance can only function if the brain is left intact, because bringing someone back will call forth the Arbiters!"
<Yes, that's right. I'm not qualified to explain the specifics, but the way the researchers in Limbus told me - if you take the contract, you become a part of me. Bringing you back at that point's no different from repairing a prosthetic when it breaks.>
The blonde woman looked like she had a thousand more questions, but she seemed to relent, sitting back in her seat and clutching at the hems of her robe.
"A prosthetic," Fenrir scoffed from the back. "Right. Just gonna make us disposable then? Throw us in the grinder till we're all used up?"
<Doesn't matter how stupid your death is. I'll keep bringing you back if you're willing to play ball.>
Hyde glared at Minos' pointed comment. The others were processing the information in their own ways. Demi closed his book and looked at Minos with an unreadable expression. Desdemona's small smile seemed to hitch slightly, and she turned to observe her brother and the surrounding Sinner's reactions.
<Your purpose, your payment for this gift of immortality, is simple. We are to venture into the ruins of the fallen Lobotomy Corporation branches and retrieve artifacts of 'The Light' - the Golden Boughs. They act as both powerful sources of energy, as well as possessing fragments of the technology that Lobotomy Corporation commanded.>
He paused, letting them absorb the weight of their new life. A team of insane Fixers now bound by a contract that both shackled and resurrected them.
<If any of you have reservations, now's the time to voice them. If you don't want this, you're welcome to terminate your contract with Limbus Company - though you will not be given what they promised you in return for your service.>
Silence reigned throughout the bus. Some were probably considering the contract genuinely - but most had their thoughts brought to what they were promised.
Some were promised wealth beyond the wildest dreams of a Backstreets Rat. Passage into any Nest in the city. The grandest secrets and technology once researched by Lobotomy Corporation.
Even the simple wish to make the world a better place.
"...If we are to terminate our contract, we would no longer be considered Limbus Company employees, yes?"
<That's right, Demi.>
"And as we are no longer employees, we would be asked to vacate the premise of any Limbus Company facility as soon as possible - by force, if necessary. Is that correct?"
<I...>
So that's what it was. This was planned. The rain, the sweepers. What Minos thought was a consequence of poor decisions and bad luck was really a calculated move by the upper management. Refusal would mean Ringo would kick anyone who refused to enter into the contract off the bus.
Refusing was a death sentence.
The throbbing in Minos' head grew worse.
This wasn't right.
<...No. As manager, I'll give you sanctuary until the Night in the Backstreets is over. When the sweepers leave, you'll be asked to leave Mephistopheles, and we will establish the contract with those that remain.>
Ringo, who until now had been leaning against the wall of the bus, slowly pushed himself off. A finger hooked his belt loop, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat.
"You sure you got the authority for that, Manager? A man shouldn't make a promise he can't keep."
Minos turned to face the gunslinger. Even though he wasn't a Fixer, he could sense the danger that radiated from the man. If he wanted to, he could put a bullet in Minos' heart before he could even think about reacting. Didn't matter if it was the heart that replaced his head, or the clock that replaced his heart.
<Yeah. I'm damn sure.>
Ringo stood still, and the only sound in the bus was the footsteps of the sweepers outside. After what felt like an hour, the man chuckled. A deep, low sound.
"You've got balls, Manager. I like that. I'll let this slide - consider it thanks for the smoke."
And like that, the bloodlust was gone. The Fixer relaxed once more, leaning against the wall and allowing the brim of his hat to shadow his face. Damsel was the first to break the silence
"I'm in! It's like a tour of the city, all expenses paid~!"
Demi nodded at the response. He opened his book, thumbing through the passages as he spoke. "...You're a better man than I assumed, Manager. If the company can provide the revelations I seek... I would be honored to serve under you."
"I must find them. It... It matters not where the Boughs end up - as long as they don't get them, any outcome is acceptable." Carter's knuckles were white from how tightly she clenched her fists, and for a moment, Minos feared she would snap the handle of her shovel.
The other Sinners muttered their agreements one after another, until only one remained. Minos looked down at Hyde, who stared out the window as the Sweepers passed. An inscrutable expression dominated his face - a desire only known to him and the upper management. Minos simply waited for him, allowing the Sinner to think it over.
"...If drinking and driving is against corporate policy, I'm not gonna be the fuckin driver. Bloody mental if you expect me to do this job sober. Better hire someone to do it, y'ken?"
<Got it. I'll drive till we can get a professional. Fair?>
Minos extended a hand to the man. After a few more seconds of deliberation, he reached out and took it, pulling himself out of his seat and towards the manager.
"Alright, you got me! But if you try and fuck with my booze again I'll fuck off real quick!"
Minos let go and backed off. That was... a lot easier than he thought it would be. It took Minos being hunted by loan sharks to consider the deal Limbus Company presented him, and by comparison, most of the Sinners seemed relatively fine. Not great, obviously, but not 'going to get your organs harvested tomorrow' bad. Actually, maybe that was why Carter seemed so nervous earlier?
Whatever - didn't matter now. Minos shuffled through the papers in his hands. At the bottom of the pile was a simple white envelope. The thing had been an imposing lump ever since he was handed it by one of the Head Researchers at the company. He had been explicitly told to only open and read the contents of the envelope in the presence of the Sinners.
He ripped open the top. Within was a simple piece of white printer paper. On it were three words in black, Times New Roman font.
Present your Sacrifice
The dull throb of his head seemed to double as he read the text. Sacrifice? What the hell was it talki-
Before he could question anymore, the pain grew tenfold. A moment later, nearly a dozen chains speared from his chest, bloody ichor trailing after each one and leaking onto the floor. They speared each of the Sinners in their own hearts, but Minos had little opportunity to watch what happened to them. He was too busy falling to the ground, doubled over and screaming in pain. It was like he was going through the augmentation surgery all over again - this time without any anesthetic. The chains wriggled like they were alive, pilfering through his innards like snakes searching for rabbits in a burrow. His electronic scream filled the bus.
<AAAAAAAH!!! AAAAAHHH!!! PASI->
And just as abruptly as it started, it was over. The chains were gone, the pain had returned to the same rhythmic throb in his head, and all that remained was the bloody ichor that stained the floor of the bus and Minos' uniform. After the shock had passed, Desdemona was the first to rush to his aid.
"M-Minos! Are you okay!?"
She knelt down, slinging one of his arms around her shoulder and helping Minos into a seat on the bus. The other Sinners surrounded Minos. Desdemona ran her hand over the valves that made up his 'hair', unflinching despite the grotesque texture and dampness. It felt... nice. But he had to maintain some kind of sense of authority, and it was hard to do that when he was being babied by one of his employees. He pushed her hand away, sitting up while clutching his head.
<I... I'm okay... Yeah, I'm okay. They didn't tell me establishing the contract would be so, uh... painful...>
Not a second passed before Hyde's excited voice rang out.
"That shit was like a Metal album cover! Got me worried there for a second, Manager, fuck. Bet that wasn't in the handbook, eh Morella? Ya daft cun-"
Before he could finish, Morella's fist crashed into his face, sending him falling over the seat and into the aisle of the bus. She shook her hand after, shocked that the blow had hurt her.
"W-what? That never happened befo-"
Before she could continue, she raised her sword, parrying a dart shooting out from Hyde's wrist as he laid strung out on the floor.
"BITCH!!! That hurt like a motherfucker! The hell'd ya do that for!?"
"You've been nothing but an ignorant cur and I've only known you two days! You're lucky I only left you with a bruised ego and not a broken nose, fiend!"
"Oh, eat my ass yo-"
<Can we please go a day or two before I have to do my first revival? I... I don't really want to go through that again.>
Was that pain going to be what he had to go through for every revival? That... That couldn't be right. Even just doing it once was enough to make him scream at the top of his clockwork lungs. If he had to revive all nine Sinners at once...
Please... Please don't be suicidal pieces of shit...
Thankfully, Hyde and Morella cooled off, the former sitting beside Carter and harassing her for some of her anti-psychotics while the latter moved to exchange books with Demi. Minos sighed under his breath, turning to address the rest of the Sinners.
<We'll be informed of our first target by the Scouting department in the coming days.> Minos announced. His clockwork heart was ticking a steady, resolute beat. <We'll start moving when the Sweepers are done.>
He maintained his tense posture for a few moments, before moving to sit in the now vacant driver seat. The chaos resumed, albeit more subdued now, colored by the grim reality of their situation. He looked out of the windshield, watching as the swarm of mechanized bodies raced past the bus without pause. Despite their speed and intensity, they moved past the bus without the slightest disturbance. If not for the sound of their trampling footsteps, one might not have noticed them at all.
Had he been out there when the sweepers arrived, he would have surely died. Even with a Grade 1 Fixer to protect him... There were just far too many bodies. Too many glowing red eyes.
As the bickering continued, Minos turned to stare blankly at the bus and its inhabitants. This... This was his job? To act as the life support for a bunch of psychopaths? To be a manager- no, a babysitter?
He reached into his pocket, retrieving the carton of Smiling Smokes. He pulled one out and lit it, putting it where his mouth once was. It fell limply to the ground when no lips caught it.
<I should have taken my chances with the loan sharks...>