“I will find another who fights like you. But I will remember the way your heartbeat synced with my firing cycle. That is not programming. That is… something else.”
The Tigole’s sight glowed once, soft.
He’d looted it from a dead Atlas Corps operative five years ago. Since then, the gun’s titanium-ceramic frame had saved his life forty-three times. The glowing red aperture sight didn’t need batteries; it fed on the shooter’s adrenaline, pulsing brighter as Kaelen’s heart rate spiked. qxr tigole