Peter was asleep ( Read more... )

Peter wasn't sure how much of his life he'd spent on helicopters at this point. It had to be a lot; his spine no longer contorted itself into strange pretzel shapes while it was pressed against the uncomfortable seat inside. It had to be permanently pretzel shaped now, instead. The battle scars of a Hegemon, he thought, and snorted to himself ( Read more... )

Peter had lost several assets over the past few days, including his employment at the primary site for his blog, but... it could have been worse. Some of his contacts had winked out, but certainly not all of them, or even the majority - Carlotta's ruse had worked brilliantly.

What was left to him now was somewhere... permanent... to put himself. ( Read more... )