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id out of Karen's snatch as Yuka Haneda rolled off him. Within
minutes, Ken was fast asleep.
Unable to rouse Ken, Karen yielded to Yuka's intuition and began
a quick but detailed search of his personal effects. If this isn't
Mister Superfuck then who is he? Keys and a gun. No papers of any
kind. Yuka Haneda was reasonably sure that he wasn't a narc, but fascist
gangsters are dime a dozen. Yuka Haneda rolled the handgun in the lunch
bag and slid it under the seat.
There weren't any tools or even a spare tire in the trunk.
What was all this weird cult religious stuff? Tracts, banners, and
books. She'd never heard of the Campus Crusade for Cthulhu. Since
The Esoteric Order of Dragon, a debased, quasi-pagan thing
imported from the East a century before, the peculiar mythos had
made few inroads on Sol III.
Karen dumped Ken's clothes within the cavernous trunk.
Ken was snoring in the grass when Karen got back to him. She
covered him with the blanket, giving him a decidedly homeless
look. A complete stranger to the Hawaiian smoke, and in a pathet
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