Weāre a ragtag team, if ever Iāve seen one. Gathered around Majorās battered table in the dimly lit bunker, thereās no less than five kinds of crazy.
Jones, the intellectual, dissecting a cicada under a magnifying glass.
Flint, the muscle; heās too big for his shirt, probably on purpose.
Qora, the gadgets girl. She keeps staring at me across the table, tossing an electrod between her hands, blue lightning buzzing from the end.
Major, of course, is the boss. And Iām the guy who can breathe in space and see invisible things, like Majorās dog made of stars, Kip. Iām also a fantastic liar.
I’m loving these stories so far, they are awesome and I love the details!
-Quinley
Yay!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!