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... he stared at it for a moment, admiring the white material. She hadn’t brought it out of its case in a while. It was light and harder than anything that Amos had been able to make thusfar. The long blade was somewhere between a combat knife and a machete. She glanced up at the door leading out of her dojo and bounced a bit on the balls of her feet as she pulled up her hud and began putting in the settings for the doll that would come out of it. The other dolls in the test house were non-combat, u ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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