The air is heady with the sound of drone wings, and above that, you can hear the heavy stomp of grounded movement. They must be at the next street over, for all that they haven't heard any culling screams. Any minute, they'll be pressing into this street.

That thought stirs you out of your stupor. The little hoofbeast corrall show that Pheres and this kid have been putting on is a fucking absurdity, and you're wildly resentful that you've had to play audience to it. If you thought hitting them would make them stop crying, you would in a heartbeat.

"This is a fucking awful idea," you snap, stepping forward, directing your words at Pheres. If the kid is feral, then they're going to get culled, but there's no point in him throwing his lot in with them, no matter his stupid delusions about his Messiah damned eyes. "They've got battery sensors - if they catch you trying to bail, they'll gut you like a goddamned fish."