Secondhand couldn’t help but feel that having that much weight on one side of his body would fuck up his back into oblivion.

Final Hour explained, “You’re shooting the wall. Others tried it before you got here. He remakes it faster than we get through. It might be better if you shoot that.”

Final Hour used his unarmored, tech-free hand to point at the other wall. White tile, running perpendicular to the wall of black stone.

“As you wish,” cute zombie girl said.

“He can’t see it,” Final Hour explained. “He can only make the walls where he can see. If we knock down the wall his wall is leaning on, it might fall.”

“She doesn’t care,” Secondhand said. “She’s a zombie.”

“Don’t call them that,” Final Hour said.

“She is. Mind-zombie, but still a zombie. Hey!”

A few eyes turned his way.

“You,” he pointed at the woman Final Hour had been talking to. “Do you care if I call you a zombie?”

“Call me whatever is convenient,” she said. “I’ll return to the work Teacher assigned me, if that’s alright?”

Secondhand waved her off, before looking at Final Hour, shrugging.

Zombies were in single file, the buff ones lined up behind the faux condom dispenser. Others were relaying parts, handing them down the line to where tinkers used them to augment or stabilize the laser cannons. More were in rows and columns.

Secondhand zipped up his costume, with gloves to cover his arms, and placing tubes in his nose before zipping up what he had termed his ‘gimp mask’ with little affection. The air from the tubes was colder than room temperature, warmed from body heat only, where the tubes ran close to his neck and back. He shut it off.

The battery pack rested between his shoulder blades, oxygen at the small of his back, and tech was threaded through the rest of his suit, which was made of the same nano-circuit mesh as his mask. All lightweight, close to the skin, and aerodynamic. He donned the round-lens goggles, and the old fashioned flat cap that was his only true concession to style over efficiency.

“Want me to load you up with a charge?” Final Hour asked.

“We should do this clean,” Last Minute said, raising his voice to be heard as he walked down the hall. End of Days was with him.