Chains just stared at the bodies. "They're breathing. He put them to sleep ."

He moved to the security hub. Two guards, one playing on his phone. The Tailor didn't use a gun. Guns were loud. Guns were memory . Instead, he used a hypodermic from a modified cufflink. The first guard yawned, then slumped. The second turned, saw his partner's eyes roll back, opened his mouth—and received a palm strike to the larynx. Silent. Final.

The Rain Washes Clean