David moved to the window beside Azrael. "How many do you think will come?"

Azrael watched another group emerge from the smoke—ten more, maybe twelve. Saw phones raised to capture the moment, saw the footage being shared in real-time across whatever networks still functioned in the ruined city.

"All of them," he said. "Everyone who survived the battle and saw what we did. Everyone who lost someone and wants to hit back. Everyone desperate enough or brave enough or broken enough to stand in ...