They were the worst. A demolition crew on their lunch break. Flageuring Demos, the type of dirty, violent men that drove brutal hover lifts, loaded with broken machinery and chunks of the mountain, down narrow roads at dangerous speeds.
My persona-drone hovered just above my left shoulder. And I was sitting in this little mountain cafe, in the ass-end of the Japanese wilderness, trapped at a table right in the pissed-off-drunken-middle of them.
https://medium.com/lit-up/the-retro-junkys-hard-burn-888418cd211b