“You’ve got a deal, Franks. I’d shake on it, but I already threw your hand away. Milo! I know you’re listening just outside the door, so you can quit hiding. I’m done,” Harbinger shouted. “He’s all yours. Get this Fed off my property ASAP.”

Anderson came back into the room, holding a severed arm. “Groovy. I can’t wait to see how this fits.”

Harbinger stopped and studied something on the limb. “How’d that get on there?”

“It was Z’s idea. His brother Mosh came in for the Newbie class and he knows how to do ink, which isn’t surprising if you look at the guy. Z said Franks loves us so much it would be hilarious. It was a rush job but I think it came out pretty good.”

He couldn’t see what they were talking about. “What did Pitt do now?” Franks demanded.

“Okay, this I approve. Pretty him up, Milo.” Harbinger slapped Anderson on the back and walked away. “Later, Franks.”

“Harbinger, come back here. Harbinger!” But the obstinate werewolf left anyway. Knowing Pitt, whatever they had done to the body part would be obnoxious. Franks would probably have to go into battle against a demon lord of the Fallen with My Little Ponies or something equally humiliating stamped on his body. “What did he do?”

Milo Anderson held up the arm so he could see. A large MHI Happy Face had been tattooed on it. “Pretty sweet, huh? You get to wear our logo. It’s like we’re bros!”

It was worse than ponies.

* * *

The Nemesis prototypes each had their own private sleeping chamber. Since the walls were solid and the doors were reinforced with locks that could be controlled from the command center, they were basically prison cells. They were normally kept isolated from each other. However, they did eat their meals together in a common area. Kurst knew that this was not intended as a kindness, but rather as an observational opportunity to watch for signs of stress while the subjects interacted. However, the prototypes were always on their best behavior in the common area, mostly because he’d ordered them to remain that way. If the humans knew what rage-filled hate machines they had in their midst and the horrors they would love to inflict upon the mortals, they would wet themselves in fear.

They ate in silence. The human psychologists may have wondered at their lack of conversation, but that was only because they were unaware of their prototypes’ telepathic abilities.

The gift works, Bia reported.

Kurst continued to eat his bland cafeteria food. Excellent.

She was sitting next to him. Since there were always cameras on them she could not perform a full demonstration, but she moved her hand beneath the table and placed it on his thigh. He could feel her fingertips lengthen and sharpen into claws.

It was very exciting.