LatinJavelin

Skitter wiped his goggles with a dirty fingertip in an attempt to clear the lens, swerving at the same time to avoid yet another a pothole. The road was full of them, made worse by the bad repair jobs. It would have been easier to drive off the road, but they were heading through Z−5, and the ground was littered with old housing canisters, rusty, graffiti-ed, pockmarked things that should have been replaced five years ago, but had never been upgraded. Men and women in dust masks watched them pass with flat reflective eyes, their ragged worksuits threadbare, needles littering the ground from government issued stimulant packs. One had to