On the left shoulder
of the man’s jacket was
the image of a white
blade, cutting through a
circle of black. The
Shard. The symbol of the
regime and one that
signified this man as a
member of the elite.
‘Hold still now,’ he said.
‘No!’ Ethan shouted as the man stepped forward, but
the more he tried to kick and fight his way free, the tighter
the mechanical grip of the synthetic warrior became.
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