NO REUSE ALLOWED
Cryer's arm seared with pain as his bones splintered through flesh, tearing his skin into a bloody, meaty mess mingled with bone shards. The acrid stench of melted plastic and charred skin saturated the cockpit of his crashed ship. Pinned in the wreckage, he awaited the arrival of the alien assailants who shot him down, anticipating their gloating over his mutilated corpse. Cryer hoped the auto-destruct mechanism would obliterate their arrogant faces when they breached the hull. As the cockpit door screeched open, he tensed, suppressing a scream as his ruined body shifted. Instead of his enemies, a tentative gray hand reached through the doorway, with four long fingers and smooth skin-it wasn't his attackers.
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12 май 2024
