knows that. But if you think we’re gonna go quiet, especially after the massacre you put on, you’re mistaken.” He charged back up the walkway to a chorus of “freeze,” his workman’s boots squeaking on the grating. As if an afterthought, he paused and turned, mid-way up the gangway. “Huntsmen, LET’S RIDE!!!”

“You’re not going anywhere!”

Trash Head took a seat at a console on the upper deck and slipped what appeared to be a remote monitoring device onto his head.

“Sure I am! Hell, so are you! We’re all going for a ride!” His hands worked the console and suddenly the room was filled with classic rock. At the same time the earth began to tremble. “Buckle your fucking seat belts ladies! Or don’t! Who am I to prea...

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