The apartment Dud was holed up in wasn't even known to the other Rejected Corps members. He'd kept it secret for years, a safe house away from prying eyes. He lived alone, always had. No partners, no friends to stay the night, no strangers brought back here.
Which meant the voice he had just heard… couldn't have been a coincidence.
Someone had followed him.
Dud's mind raced. The only place he had gone recently was the quack doctor's clinic. Had one of them trailed him back here?
His eyes darted to the counter. A pair of scissors lay there, the same pair he had used minutes earlier to cut his bandages. Without hesitation, he snatched them up, his knuckles whitening around the handle.
"Let's see who's really foolish," he hissed.
Spinning around, Dud swung the scissors with every ounce of strength he had left.
Clang!
The blow was stopped. His arm had struck something solid, an arm, parrying the attack with ease.
