“No, no. No, it has to be a hatchet.” Hank finally stuffed his large, calloused hands back into his jacket. It was a heavy jet-black leather duster, the kind the cowboy Regulators wore when they did business.
The crew of the ArkBoat Liberato Prime were all exceptional individuals; Captain Zimma gave them some interpersonal latitude when he could; after all, that and having children together was a critical part of this mission.
“My shadow at Vandenberg says it’s an operational project they just launched. Disintermediation refers to a set of coordinated attacks up and down the pacific coast at communities like ours. Cut out the middle, the resistance collapses; now it’s easier to bust the flanks.”
"Well, tonight is kinda special," Janica said it as she looked out the window; a black city police van rolled past; large letters on the side: SWAT.