decimation

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themselves. One of your pals screws up, you could go down for it too. So you keep an eye out on each other. These Sons of Man guys are trying to do the same thing with the whole Islamic world. Get them to police themselves. You think about it, it's probably the only effective way you could keep tabs on terrorist action. From the inside."
"Decimation." Pasquini looked impressed. "Well, you gotta hand it to the Romans. They didn't dick around. How'd they decide which poor bastards got the ax along with the traitor?"
Keane threw his partner a playful frown as he pocketed his phone. "This is your own people's history, Pasquini, you should know this. It was random, they drew straws."
"Huh." Pasquini popped another Lifesaver into his mouth. "Doesn't sound very fair. Think I'd want to talk to my army recruiter about that one."
"The Romans didn't care about what's fair, they cared about what works. That's how you get to be the Romans, buddy."
Fair. Fair was what bureaucrats and lawyers fought over. Fair was a unicorn. Fair was rules of engagement that went out the damn window the second you saw your buddy's severed arm lying in a ditch next to the burnt out Humvee you'd both just been riding in.
Fair was for civilians. People who were tasked to get things done when lives and empires hung in the balance, the soldiers and Caesars of the world--they didn't have time for luxuries like fair.
And sometimes fair got in the way of just. How many times had Keane seen evil dodge justice because only one side was supposed to play fair?
Keane and Pasquini topped the rise together. Spread out below them and stretching on for seeming miles, thousands upon thousands of flickering lights. Candles, a vigil of sorts. Supporting who? What? The end of the w...

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...this terrible mess.
Keane lay on top of Blue Hoodie now, belly to belly, his gun pressed to the man's temple. He peeled himself up a bit and looked--blood everywhere. Blue Hoodie's face was covered with it.
How much of that is my own blood?
The thought came to him with a weird detachment He felt nothing, and knew that could be the initial shock.
Up on the stage, Bayley finally got a glimpse of what was going on and backpedalled instinctively from the fracas. There was a look of horror on her face now.
A young girl in braids and a Power Puff Girls T-shirt had climbed part way up the back stairs to the stage, trying to see what was going on. The political talk show host apparently smelled danger and was barreling right at her on fat, bandy legs.
"Out of the way, move, move, move!" he said, as he mowed the little girl down in his haste to flee whatever danger was here.

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