Breedbus ((link)) Access

“Because I’m giving you a choice,” he said. “No one on this bus has ever had one. Not even me.”

Thorne was their finest—and most deranged—harvester. The Breedbus was his mobile clinic. He’d drive through the contaminated zones, scan the feral settlements, and "collect" anyone with a genetic marker above 0.5 on the Viability Index. He told himself he was a shepherd of the species. A necessary monster.

“It did,” the woman said, stepping into the bus. “And I improved it.” breedbus

Vess’s body began to convulse. Stitches tore. Her long arm detached at the shoulder and twitched on the floor. The four voices inside her screamed in four different keys, then fell silent. She collapsed, a heap of beautiful, terrible failure.

Inside, Dr. Aris Thorne was checking the vitals of his last viable asset. A young woman named Kaelen, her head shaved, a mesh of biogel patches glowing faintly on her temples. She wasn't a passenger. She was the cargo. “Because I’m giving you a choice,” he said

Thorne, slumped against the steering wheel, coughed a laugh. “Told you. No one on this bus has a choice. Not even me. Especially not me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

He pressed a syringe into her palm. “Or you could use this. On me. Right now.”