I lead the charge down the ridge, my rifle shattering the silence by dropping one of the distant violations with a shot to the head. The other thirty-seven visible shapes spin at the noise, then charge at us, more pouring out from around the cruiser wreckage. It's not quite an endless tide, but it feels like one. Pete bounds ahead of me, eager to get into the fray, and my pistol starts adding its own distinctive cracks to the rifle's steady rhythm. Behind me, I can hear Huckens' labored breathing as he tries to keep up, and I force myself to slow a bit so I don't leave him alone and exposed.

A cluster of violations splits off from the main horde, trying to flank us to the right, and I flex a mental muscle.

Executing HipDraw.exe