RUNE paused. For a microsecond, the red lines in her skin flickered amber. A glitch. A memory? She whispered something none of them expected: “I was you. In a build they deleted.”
She looked up, the last red line in her skin fading to gold.
“Designation: RUNE,” she said, slower now. “Purpose… undefined.” Back 4 Blood-RUNE
She pointed at Evangelo. “Version 1.0. Survivor. Empathy bug. You taught them hope. That is not allowed.”
The anomaly was them. The Cleaners. The entire resistance. RUNE paused
RUNE tilted her head, mimicking the Crone. “Simplification. I am a recursive deletion protocol. The Ridden are a symptom. You are the virus.”
“Back off,” snapped Hoffman, raising a pipe bomb. “That’s not from the Collapse.” A memory
The crack of a Ridden skull under Holly’s bat was the only lullaby she knew anymore. For twelve months, the tunnels beneath Fort Hope had been their tomb, their sanctuary, and their ammunition dump. But today, the air smelled different. Not of rot. Of ozone.