You can help each other, Max, said the unwelcome voice. You're perfect complements to each other. "Shut up!" I hissed under my breath, and Dylan looked startled. "I didn't say anything." Gritting my teeth, I nodded. "No, I know. It's just-" I decided to take a risk and stare him down. "I hear voices, okay? If you're gonna be here, get used to it. Or else keep your distance.

Yes!” said Fang, punching the air. “Freaks rule.

Yes," I said. "My name is seven-five-nine-nine-three-nine-ex-dash-one. Junior.

Blood City III: The Massacre. I'd read the summary of it online, and frankly, it sounded like the directors had just decided to film my life.

Fear is not the answer, not ever.

The act of laughing releases some nice chemical into your brain, you feel good and it's free.

Why aren't crazy people content to take over, like, one town? It always has to be the whole word. They can't just control maybe twenty people. The have to control everyone. The can't just be stinking rich. The can't just do genetic experiments on a couple unlucky few. They have to put something in the water. In the air. To get everyone. I was tired of all of it.