The Seventh


— - —

A young boy stands in a long line of men and women in orange jumpsuits. He has a metal collar around his neck. He is marched out into the cold with a shovel in his hands, and as an adult with a flamethrower pushed back the encroaching flesh, he pushes the ashes into small piles to be collected. He is thin, and sick. Their camp hasn't received rations in three days - but the guards stay fed.

There is a commotion, and bullets whip across the frozen earth. The boy dives for cover behind a pile of fleshy corpses, and covers his ears against the screaming and shouting around him. It lingers for a moment, and then silence. When he opens his eyes, Arians is leaning down to pick him up. The older man throws a warm blanket across the boy's shoulders, and carries him to a waiting personnel vehicle.

— - —

Aaron Siegal stands at a podium, delivering news of a breakthrough to the first assembly of their new Foundation. He beams as the audience applauds.

— - —

The Incredibly Ivory flees down a dark alleyway in the Three Portlands, Foundation agents fast on her heels. She has run for what has felt like hours now, and knows she does not have much left to give. She hears dogs barking and her legs burn like cinders. She catches sight of another agent rounding the corner in front of her, so she stumbles down a side street.

It opens into a quiet intersection, but she can hear them approaching from all around her. Exhausted and resigned, she collapses in the street. Paint and blood are smeared on her clothes, and she laughs now seeing the mess. Well, she thinks, at least they'll give me something to change into.

A moment later a car screeches to a halt in front of her, and Bramimond pulls her into the car. When the Foundation agents exit the alleyway, she is nowhere to be found.

— - —

A phone is ringing.

— - —

In the distance is a mountain of fire and the sound of roaring machines and the continent being sundered. The earth shakes. Arians keeps the car straight on the road even as it bucked and buckled beneath him. In the back seat, Aaron is staring at the floor.

— - —

Through a small crack between two rocks, a man squeezes through followed shortly by his rucksack. He strikes a match, filling the chamber with light. Small white insects, those that haven't seen the light of day in a hundred generations, scurry for cover. The man lights his lantern and starts forward.

There's a draft from somewhere beyond this room, so he follows it. He ducks carefully under rock formations, tenderly brushing up against them so as to not disturb them. A bat flies low overhead and he is encouraged - this must be the right way. He presses on, and from somewhere not far off he can hear the sound of rushing water.

He opens into another cavern, but before he can get his bearings his foot snags the edge of the walkway and he tumbles to the ground, his lantern dashing and shattering against the ground, spilling oil and fire out in every direction. He hurries to stand, rubbing his side where he'd struck hard stone. Before he can move to put the fire out, a miracle catches his eye. In front of him is a waterfall, small but dozens of feet high. He approaches it cautiously, extending a hand out into the waters which he now sees flow up and around his hand. He splashes the water, which continues to flow up and out of the pool at his feet, towards some point in the dark far above him.

In the dimming light of that cavern, standing before an impossibility, Frederick Williams grins.


— - —

Ivan burst into a clearing, hands slapping at his face as he swerved an ducked away from a great many tiny assailants. Vanessa wasn't far behind, followed closely by Bram and Arians. Of the four of them, Vanessa had fared the best in the jungle. Bram had slipped and fallen into quicksand, which now covered his lower half as if he was an ice-cream-man-cone. Arians was drenched head to toe in sweat from the humidity, and he grumbled and fumed each step of the way at the fucking dogshit heat. Lastly, Ivan had earned the attention of a swarm of bugs, which (to his telling) had now followed him for the better part of the last mile, since their car had broken down.

Bram called a general halt to their progress to survey a map and some notes he had received from Delta. Of the seventh Overseer, the journal had been scant - she moves often - but Delta had been watching the movements of the one they called Green for weeks. True to the journal's description, she had moved more frequently than any of the others, often staying at a location for no more than a few days, at best. But here, deep in the heart of these forests, she was said to have been staying for over a month.

"I don't like it," Arians had said, chewing on the end of a cigar. "This feels like a trap."

"Yeah," Ivan had answered, "we don't actually know that she's there, either. We just know that we haven't seen her leave. There are plenty of ways she could've gotten out."

Bramimond had stroked his beard at the thought, catching Vanessa's eye from across the room before she quickly looked away. "You're right. This is profoundly sketchy. But if our sources are correct and she's where we think she is, we might not get another chance at this. We have to act now."

So it was, then, that they arrived in—

"Cambodia!" Arians shouted, tearing yet another piece of his shirt away from his body. "Cambodia! Of all places. If the bugs don't kill you, the wretched heat will." He pulled out a fan and began to feverishly wave it in front of his face. "I have had enough of this part of the world for one lifetime. If I never have to spend another day in these god-awful jungles it won't have come soon enough."

Bramimond surveyed their map, noting a nearby river as a landmark. "We're close now. Once we're in the city, we need to meet up with Vanderveer. He'll be here, in this bar. He has contacts that can get us where we need to go." He pulled a bandana out and started wrapping it around his face. "Put something up over your face - we need to stay as discrete as possible here." He stuck a finger out towards Ivan and Arians. "You two pasty-faces stick out."

Arians grunted, but Ivan whipped his head around, face red from sustained smacks. "Hang on, what now? Why do we need to hide our faces?"

Bramimond tucked his map and the journal away. "Same reason the Overseer is here right now. Political unrest. Vanderveer says there's an artifact of some kind being held by the local revolutionaries, and that Green has come in personally to treat with them and get it back."

Ivan's face ran white. "Why is an Overseer coming to treat with revolutionaries?"

"Don't be fooled," Arians said, slinging Ivan's canister over his shoulder, "this isn't a diplomatic mission. Green gets off on this kind of shit. If she's here, that means something disastrous is about to happen."

After quickly cleaning themselves off and covering their faces, the four of them crept back into the brush in the direction of the nearby city.

Bramimond slunk behind a wall as a group of rioters passed by him, torches illuminating the dark streets. Somewhere not far off, he could hear the sound of gunfire and car alarms, and the occasional loud boom of a tank as the government moved troops into the city. He waited until they were gone, and moved quickly towards the east. They had gotten separated early on after a mob had formed around a grocery they were passing by. Arians had radioed in that he was fine and moving towards the target, and Vanessa and Ivan had met up a few blocks later.

Under the orange fabric of an awning he saw a single light illuminating a sign - Pedro's Place - and an open door. He slipped through it, and the sound of the streets faded behind him.

Pedro's Place had emptied out earlier in the day when a brick had come through one of the front windows, but a handful of patrons still sat at the bar. The broken glass had been swept into a small pile in the corner and left untouched. Bramimond entered casually, not rising to meet any of the eyes that crossed the room in his direction. He found a seat near the back of the small room at a table in a far corner, and hunched down to hide his features. After a moment, the bartender came by his table.

"What you have?" the bartender said, in broken English.

Bramimond knocked on the table twice, then twice again, then three times. "I'll have what he's having."

The bartender paused, then nodded and left. A few more moments passed, and then another man returned to the table with beers in each hand. This man was a stout individual with fiery red hair and a lit cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth. He took a seat across from Bramimond sliding one of them across towards him.

"Cheers, Bram," he said. "Drink up, we'll likely be dead in the morning."

Bramimond grinned through his handkerchief, which he quickly removed. "Van," he said, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Vanderveer shrugged. "Must be pretty sore, then." He took a drink. "Where's the rest of your band of merry men? I was promised a raiding party, not a single over-the-hill operative."

Bramimond snorted. "We were separated. Arians is moving ahead to the watch point, and V and the kid are on their way. We should meet them on our way out."

Vanderveer nodded. "Once they arrive, we'll need to move quickly. We won't have an abundance of time to act - if the riots dissipate, we've lost our opportunity. Our only cover right now is that the streets are full of looters, and we're just a handful of tourists."

They were interrupted by a barking dog outside which quickly faded into the hum of the background. Bram took another drink. "What's going on out there?"

"Local politics," Vanderveer said. "Kervier came in and set up here a number of years ago and thoroughly fucked the water. They were doing what they usually do, you know - come in, set up, dig furiously and then wait until the Jailers come and force them out. Only this time, the Foundation didn't show up." He laughed. "You probably had a hand in that."

It was Bram's turn to shrug as Vanderveer continued. "Anyway, there are three sides to this. On one hand you have the local officials, all of whom were receiving kickbacks from Kervier and are seen as having betrayed their countrymen. Then you've got these folks - let's call them revolutionaries - who have been pushing to overthrow the government for a while. When the details of the Kervier deal came out, they decided it was their time to shine and rose up en masse. They're holed up down at the governor's manor, supposedly meeting with the local governor to reach some agreement. Fact is, they're only there so that Green can stoke them and disrupt the agreements, and send the country into civil war. Once it's properly destabilized, the Jailers can swoop in and raid the armory where they're keeping this thing they want to get their hands on so badly."

"Who are the people in the street?" Bramimond asked.

"Rioters. They're all just unhappy with the government and while most of them probably align with the revolutionaries, not all of them do. Mostly they just want to riot. They're dissatisfied and angry and want to loot and pillage. They're the most dangerous of the three sides right now, because if their attitudes turn especially violent we could be swept up in it before we have time to get out of dodge."

The sound of the street outside grew louder for a moment as the door opened, and through it stepped a man and woman. Bramimond nodded, and Vanderveer stood.

"Time to roll," the husky Irishman said. "For the Insurgency."

Bramimond took his extended hand. "For the Insurgency."

Vanessa and Ivan fell in behind them, and together the four snuck quickly out of a concealed side door. As they passed the bartender, the man gave them a nervous nod. Once they were out on a side street, Vanderveer pointed towards lights in the distance.

"That's where we're going," he said, voice rising slightly to be heard over the din of the crowd. "The revolutionaries have set up there. To get inside we'll need to meet up with one of my contacts, Jo." He glanced down at his phone. "I was hoping to have heard from him by now, but there's really not much time to wait. Let's go."

They took off in the direction of the governor's manor, sticking mostly to side streets to avoid the rioters and larger gatherings. As they paused to wait for a mob to pass, Bramimond pulled out his radio and called Arians.

"Vince," he said, "do you read? Where are you?"

The radio crackled a response. "Made it to the watch point. There's a throng of ne'er-do-wells down here pillaging an electronics shop, so I've gone onto the roof. Where are you?"

"We're leaving Pedro's now. Any sign of our target?"

"Not yet. She should be pretty easy to spot, what with the jumpsuit and all." The radio was silent. "Be advised, Bram - there are a lot of troops moving out of the manor now. They're keeping out of the main street here and I don't think anyone on the ground has noticed. If things turn sour here, I think they're going to break really badly."

Bram took a deep breath. "Roger that. We'll meet you soon."

The four of them skirted past a burning shop and down a narrow street with a tight bend at the end. Approaching it, Vanderveer held up a hand and they stopped as he peered around the corner. He turned back and swore.

"Looters," he said. He pulled a sidearm from its holster. "Don't do anything stupid."

He sidled around the corner with the rest of them not far behind. As they approached the group of people emptying a store of its contents, one of the looters noticed them, and then they all did. Vanderveer sucked in his chest and smiled, extending his arms.

"Evenin' lads," he said with as much gusto as he could muster. "Just passing through, see. Don't want any trouble. Got money if you want it, no problems here."

One of the looters looks back towards the others, and then turned back towards the group, nodding. Vanderveer produced his wallet and stepped forward slowly, holding it out in front of him.

"There we go," he said, "nice and easy now."

Suddenly, bullets zipped through the group of looters and the men and women began falling over each other. One of them pulled a gun and began firing into the dark behind them, and then everyone had guns. Van turned to run back towards the other three, but a stray shot caught him in the leg and he collapsed, cursing. Bram ran up to grab him as he fell, and the three of them started to pull him off the street. Vanderveer looked back towards the group of rioters, his eyes growing wide.

"Gas," he said, pointing. "Jailers."

A cloud of gas had formed over the bodies of the dead and dying looters, which crept towards the group. Out of the cloud emerged dark shapes with masks and rifles in riot armor. Even from the distance they were at, Bram could make out the insignia on their shoulders. Nine-Tailed Fox.

"Oh shit," Ivan said under his breath, and suddenly the group was in a near sprint, with Bramimond heaving the hefty Vanderveer over his shoulder to keep up the pace. They darted down side streets, but no matter where they turned more armored shapes emerged from the shadows. They turned again, and found themselves in a dead end.

"Fuck!" Vanessa said, turning back towards where a group of Foundation agents now stood at the entrance to the alley they had walked into. Vanderveer swung around on Bram's shoulder, firing furiously at the agents. One of them collapsed, then another. A bullet pinged off one of their masks, and the agent disappeared behind the rest. Then, one near the front produced a thick steel canister, pulled a tab, and rolled it towards them. A thick, orange gas blew out of the can from both ends, filling the alley.

Bram moved to run forward, but each step into the cloud felt like a thousand, and suddenly he was as heavy as lead. He heard Vanderveer swear as he fell from Bram's shoulder, and then he heard Ivan hit the ground, and then himself, and then the world went black.

Bram's awoke, cotton-mouthed and groggy, unable to see through a dark band wrapped around his eyes. He felt for his wrists - cuffed, and his ankles as well. He reached as far backwards with his hands as he could, and he felt something cold but very alive - Vanessa. Somewhere nearby, he heard the unmistakable sound of Ivan snoring.

Then, a voice.

"Captain, captain, captain," it said, slowly and steadily. It was a rich voice, vaguely southern, full-textured and hearty, and clearly female. The voice was that of someone very sure of where they stood. "I should start giving you menial scouting missions more often, when you come back with prizes like these."

Another voice, this time male. Harsh. "Are these the insurgents?"

"Yes, I believe they are," the woman said. Bram heard footsteps, and then nothing. "This one is out of place. We're missing one."

"What would you like done with him?" the man said.

The woman paused, considering. "Well. No point in waking him, I think. All in all, a better way than what we have in store for the rest of them."

There was a heavier sound as the man - clearly in boots - crossed the room. Bram heard the sound of a bullet sliding into its chamber, and then the ear-piercing pop of a gunshot. Bram jumped, and heard Vanessa scream from behind him.

"Look, look. They're awake. Get them up, hurry. We don't have a ton of time." More footsteps, and then Bram was yanked upwards by two sets of hands. The hands pushed him against the wall and another pulled the blindfold off of his face.

He squinted against the glare of the lights, and as the room became clear he was met with the sight of a short, squat woman in a dark green pantsuit. She wasn't old - maybe early 50s, and she wore black shoes with green flowers on them. She was leaning down to look at him quizzically, like some bird of prey lurking over a meal. Bram turned to his left and right, confirming that Vanessa and Ivan were there with him and generally no worse for wear. He glanced into the corner of the room and then back quickly - Vanderveer lay dead on the ground, a bullethole placed between his eyes.

The door to the room cracked open. "What was that?" asked the voice on the other side. "Who you shooting?"

The woman in the pantsuit waved them off. "Don't worry about that. I'm dealing with a personal issue. You understand? Personal. P-E-R-S-O-N-A-L. That means no you. Scooch."

The door slid closed, and she turned back towards the group, smiling.

"Well well well," she said, clapping her hands together. "And here I thought I was going to have to spend time looking for you three, and you walk right into one of my patrols. That's just something, I tell you what."

Noticing that Vanessa was staring at Vanderveer, the woman gestured dismissively. "Oh, don't you worry about him, sug. He went quick and easy. You're about to have a harder time of it, I'm afraid."

She turned back towards an open window. From outside, they could hear the sound of the throng of revolutionaries in the street.

"Introductions! Where are my manners, goodness. My mama would've whooped me for that. My name is unimportant - you can just call me Green. Everybody does, hell, you probably do too. As for you three," she paused, finger held against the side of her face, "the skinny one here is a runaway D-Class, the skinny bitch is the anartist who got away, and you - why, you're Bramimond St. Armand, aren't you? Tired of lobbing grenades are unarmed convoys, you've decided to step up to the big leagues and have a crack at some Overseers."

She laughed, a warm, wholesome laugh. "I've got to hand it to you Bramimond, you've got some balls. I don't know what's in the water wherever you're from, but it's some pretty potent stuff. Some of my own could use a tall glass of it!"

Green turned back towards the window. "Now I know what you're here to do - hell, we all do by now. Some of my fellows decided to turn tail and run for their holes after that little stunt you pulled with poor ole Felix - very clever, by the way. You know what's funny is that Felix himself had worried about that, a long time ago. In order to assure him, Aaron had the Fountain drained and the ground upturned until there was nothing left. Yet there you were, doing something that shouldn't have been able to be done. Very, very clever."

She continued. "But while they might be content to hole up for a while until this all blows over, I've got work to do. The Foundation doesn't run by itself, and it certainly doesn't run if there's nobody telling it to go. Besides," she turned her head to look back at them, her eyes steely and her smile crooked and devilish, "this is the most alive I've felt in years."

Bram grunted. "You're a peach."

Green laughed again. "Georgia grown! Isn't that fitting?" She crossed the room again in a hurry. "So here's what I'm going to offer you, Bramimond - something of a wager. Have you ever watched a fly at a flytrap? That's the most natural gamble out there. The fly is gambling that it can make it down to that sweet, sweet nectar and out before the flytrap snaps shut. The fly is willing to take that bet, though, because the nectar is so good and it's right there."

She pointed at Ivan and Vanessa. "I'm going to offer you lives, for a life. Easy. You let me kill one of the two of them - your choice, I'm not unfair - and I let you do whatever you want to me. Kill, maim, butcher, whatever. OR, and here's where it gets interesting, you refuse and I leave this room, go into that room," she pointed a pudgy finger at the door that had opened earlier, "and put a bullet into the neck of Ying Ko-something or other, the revolutionary leader. You and your two friends here might make it out alive, but as soon as that throng in the street find out their golden boy was gunned down by the troops now firing on them they'll set the whole countryside alight."

Green squatted down in from of him, both hands held out in front of her. "That's where it is, Bramimond. There's the nectar. It's right there. All you have to do is reach out and take it."

Bram struggled against his restraints. One of the guards behind him put the butt of his rifle into Bram's back, knocking him over. "Fuck you," he said.

Green rolled her eyes. "You should've learned some more words and gone to church when you were younger, Bramimond."

"Take me," Bram heard Vanessa say next to him. Her voice was hoarse. "Bram, she's going to kill one of us anyway. How else are we going to get the chance?"

The woman laughed. "She's right, Bram. Somebody is dying tonight, and you get to decide who. Come on now, we don't have all night. Ping Pong is not a patient man." She motioned at him, and the guards sat him back up.

"Fine," Bram said, spitting out blood, "shoot me. Let those two go."

Green didn't laugh, but her smile grew unnaturally wide. "No no, Bramimond. That's not how the game is played. You don't get to choose yourself. You think this is some kind of noble sacrifice you'd be making?" Now she laughed. "You would've thought after so many years of losing, the Insurgency would've figured this out by now. There are no noble sacrifices, Bramimond. Here's what will happen - you will choose one of your friends or those people out there and I live or I die. If I live, I go back to work and we replace the Overseers you've killed - it certainly wouldn't be the first time. If I die, you get to feel like you've won something for a moment, and then you are either killed by the masses outside those doors or killed by our agents or die of the flu or whatever. Maybe you kill another Overseer - Jean is looking wobbly right now, he'd be a good target. Either way, eventually you reach a point where you have exhausted your efforts, and then you'll stop trying. You'll run into a mountain you can't climb - and believe me, that mountain is coming up soon. You'll realize that this tower was built to not be climbed, and you'll give up. As soon as you give up, none of the deaths mean anything. It doesn't matter if it's you, or her, or me."

She stood up, hands still outstretched. "You know what makes sacrifice worth it? Perpetuity. You either keep going and live forever, or you die and history forgets." She laughed. "The worst part is, honestly, you really have no idea what you're doing."

Bram opened his mouth to talk, but Green held out a finger to silence him. "I know what you think you're doing, but honey, you were messed up from the word go. You think that killing people will stop the Foundation and, well," she paused, pensively. "You should ask Aaron Siegal about that. Hard to kill an idea."

She turned the hand back over. "Last chance. Make a choice, fly."

Bramimond struggled against his restraints for a second more, and Green sighed. "Fine. You know, this is actually what I wanted in the first place anyway." She gestured at the captain, who strode towards the door. Vanessa shouted out and lunged towards him, but was rebuked by the end of his rifle. He kicked the door open, and fired three times through the doorway. There was shouting on the other side, and then he fired again until the shouting stopped. He nodded to someone in the room, and walked through followed by the other agents. They heard another door open in the next room, and the the sound of something wet and heavy hitting concrete.

The crowd outside went silent. A moment later there was a single gunshot, and then a thousand. The mob erupted, and the earth began to shake. More gunshots filled the air, and they could smell the distinct scent of gunpowder and searing flesh. Green turned to gather her things.

"You know that thing I said earlier, about flytraps? Here's what's funny about that - even if they don't go for the nectar, it's too late. They won't ever get out. The fly is made to do all sorts of things, but the flytrap? The flytrap is just there to catch the fly. But they keep coming, because that nectar sure does look good." She turned to look at them. "I wonder who will be next?"

Suddenly Ivan was on his feet, his cuffs and a nail clattering to the ground. He had taken three steps when Green had her gun out, inches from his face. He stopped suddenly, legs shaking, and Green cocked her head and smiled.

"Oh, no," she said, "sorry honey, but it's not going to be you."

Bram saw a flash of light out the window, and then Green was stumbling backwards, clutching her hand and cursing. Blood rushed between her fingers. From on the table next to her, a confiscated radio crackled.

"Run." It was Arians.

Ivan snagged a key off the table as Green ran out of the room. Once unshackled, Bram collected their weapons and the radio.

"Vince," he said, running into the next room, "do you have eyes? Where's she at?"

"On the roof," Arians said, "there's a helicopter landing right now. I'm heading your way."

As they rounded the corner, three of the revolutionaries stormed up the stairs, guns drawn. They opened fire on the three, forcing Bram behind a table and Vanessa back into the first room. Bram returned fire, catching the first man in the shoulder and forcing him back. Vanessa fired blind, but missed. Two more were coming up the stairs behind them, and more could be heard below. Bram could barely hear the crowd below them over the din of the helicopter above.

Bram reloaded, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Ivan sprinting around the corner behind Vanessa, something long and slender in his hand. Before Bram could shout out to him, Ivan had the Spear of the Non-Believer cocked back and aimed at the men in the stairwell. In the moment before he loosed it, Bram felt the air get sucked out of the room. Silence filled the space where noise had been a second prior, and the lights dimmed. He grabbed his chest, unable to breathe, and managed to get turned just enough to look over the table towards the stairwell.

There was a roaring sound like a locomotive passing over them, and a blast of light and heat. The spear ripped through the air towards the men on the stairs, piercing each of them in succession and embedding itself in the wall behind them. As it passed through them, they burst into flames and were quickly reduced to ash - the last sound from their lips being the faint whisper of a scream before being silenced forever. Bram stood up unsteadily, his expression covered with disbelief. Ivan stumbled backwards, bracing first against the wall and then Vanessa as she came in behind him to scoop him up. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Holy shit," he said quietly, "I don't know what I was expecting, but… oh god."

"No time, come on," Bram said before realizing that Ivan could barely stand. "Vanessa, stay here with him. Arians will be up soon, I'll get Green."

Vanessa nodded. Bram bounded up the stairs towards the roof, taking the door with a lowered shoulder and bowling out onto the platform above. The helicopter was just a few steps away, and Green was standing on the railing. When she saw him, she extended her free hand in greeting.

"This is it, Bramimond!" her voice cut over the sound of the helicopter and the crowd below, which was now in a frenzy. Fires had broken out across the entire quad, with more cropping up in the distance as the city began to burn. "This is the world your actions lead you to. I hope it was worth it!"

Bram pulled out his sidearm and fired at her. He missed once, then twice, and then an explosion rocked the building and his gun fell from his hand. He reached to grab it but was too slow, and it disappeared over the edge of the roof. With Green laughing over the noise, the helicopter began to ascend.

Bram felt someone come up beside him. Arians planted a knee into the ground and, taking aim with his scoped rifle, fired a round. It pinged off the metal just beside Green, whose eyes grew wide with something like glee upon seeing him.

"Vincent, you were late! I had hoped I'd get the chance to catch up with you too!" She blew him a big kiss. "I'll tell Aaron you said hi when I see him next!"

Arians lined up another shot but was wide when he pulled the trigger. The helicopter continued to climb. He fired again, and nothing.

Then, something streaked out of the crowd below them - a rocket. It arced into the sky and pierced the nose of the aircraft. For a split second nothing happened, and Bram feared it had been a dud. Then, scarlet filled the sky as the rocket and helicopter both burst into flames and fell from the sky. The blades were spun out into the crowd, and the flaming mass of metal struck a nearby building. The gas tank exploded, and a fiery figure that used to be O5-7 was ejected from the wreckage down into the crowd below them. Bram peered over the edge, and saw the crowd descending upon the corpse.

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