The black paneled personnel carriers followed the silver Suliura through the highway junctions like the body of a long, black dragon follows its off-colored head through the clouds. The true ferocity of this cheap imitation, however, was neither fang nor claw, but the courage to march into certain peril at an obvious disadvantage.
In the mind of the public, prewar artifacts consisted of sacred tomes and historic relics among many other predated artworks. To judicial forces, the term was near synonymous with antiquated firearms. In a world that had only decades ago outlawed weapons, the recent reemergence of class-three PWAs in the underclasses offered no comfort to the public and was greatly disconcerting for investigative agents.
The Ofilius Blight Agents and the Black Coats of the extended convoy were all equipped with non-lethal projectiles. They carried shock tamers, whose painful and paralyzing side effects paled in comparison to the deadliness of the refurbished war artifacts they were likely to encounter.
Mathew was all too familiar with weapons of war. He felt personally obligated to protect the lives of all those under his charge, but Ashniin’s youthful green eyes corrupted his conviction, so he averted his attention toward the outdoor fog.
The Suliura commanded the convoy onto the off-ramp leading to the lower heights, where the pitiable road conditions stressed the vehicles’ suspensions. Mathew’s pensiveness discouraged discussion, so the partners continued along the corroded blacktop, chattering their teeth in awkward silence.