32 Agunpowder-scented cloud rolled through the window, and Spike pulled his fingers from his ears. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, getting a wide-angle view of outside. For all that gunfire, he’d expected more destruction. Other than mangled drones littering the ground, everything looked about the same. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his bound wrists overhead, and leaned side to side—whatever injections the doctor had given him to get his mind right were working wonders for his body. If it weren’t for his one ankle still twice the size of the other, he might be able to walk like a normal person. He squinted at a leafy plant sitting in the middle of the packed dirt surrounding the warehouse. As much time as he’d spent looking out this window, he’d never noticed that plant befor

