Waste: Glunder

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His left ankle was twisted, maybe broken. The dragoness was disabled. He had twelve bullets, a flask of ale, and a pack of matches, and some stale bread. Fantastic. He had staggered out of the sand, wincing at the pain in his ankle, and limped over to Rise, who he proceeded to lean on. The Cleaners. It had to be. They had been the ones who shot them down. "Cleaners." he panted. "We have to leave. Now." Lincoln looked puzzled. "Cleaners? What are cleaners? Hell, we're in no shape to move anyways." Glunder shook his head and sucked in another breath. "When a colony goes bad south, and the Feds find out about it, they let loose elite murder robots called cleaners to kill all the survivors; make sure that no can talk about the feds' failure." Lincoln winced. "Death machines chasing us and our dragon's dead. Lovely." Glunder laughed. "You ever fought next to a dragon, before, boy? She's not dead." Lincoln started to ask a question, but Rise cut him off. "Doesn't matter! Get her walking and get out!" Glunder limped his way to the prone brass mass of Morlicantha, leaving Lincoln and Rise to bicker about what direction to move. He dropped to his knees next to the huge head. Even though he HAD seen dragons survive worse then a crippled wing, he knew that they  weren't invincible. He knew that all too well. The dials above her eyes were still moving, so that was good. He drew his gun from beneath his coat and fired it downwards into the sand next to her head. She snapped to her feet, causing the shattered wing to finally come loose and fall to the sand, then let loose that same horrid buzzsaw-scream and  around to blast the trio of humanoids with flame.

There's Glunder's chapter for this Part, hope you enjoyed it. Hopefully I can get Morlicantha's bit out by next week.
Much love, as always,
ProphetOfCthulhu (formerly Triforception)

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