Pattern Black Quotes

“cross their open sky. “Now!” “Mason.” “Mason, what?” “Mason Shaw!” “And who am I?” It was hard to resist a sarcastic answer to that one. Mrs. Claus. Abraham Lincoln. My partner. My lover. Jeremiah the Reefer Thief. But Dakota’s face with those intense eyebrows told him to speak straight. What he didn’t understand, she very much did. And though she’d never admit as much, she was terrified by it.  “Dakota. Dakota Ward. Former internal affairs for USPD, now director of intake for the Revival Corporation’s privatized HRO 22, Union Station, California. What do I win?”  She blinked but said nothing. It looked like a reserved comment held for later. Then she startled yet again at something above them that Mason couldn’t see and ducked back without answering.  Dakota planted one foot on a box then sprung upward with her arms extended overhead. She grabbed a machine just above the gutter — a giant thing, churning in her grip like the deck of a running lawnmower. She used gravity and her core to pike the thing downward, driving it hard against the concrete with a devastating crack. The machine sputtered before slowing. Dakota popped a compartment on its back, one she’d clearly known where to find. Its lights died, and the hulk became a hunk of dead metal. Dakota threw something ― whatever she’d yanked from its innards ― away with a clatter.  “Is that a prison drone?” Mason asked, gawking. “How … How did you …”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“Was this Amsterdam?”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“Mason looked around. Even by the light of Bear’s lantern, there was little to see — especially from his vantage half-lying on the floor. The lamp’s amber light threw long shadows that shifted with Bear’s every motion. Mason took it in as best he could, fairly certain he’d never seen this place. It looked a bit like the testing rooms of the intake facility — smooth, polished, and vaguely scientific. But unlike those rooms, this place appeared abandoned. Tiny LED lights lit the gloom where lamplight didn’t intrude. ”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“Mason’s mind pushed it all away. “Take me to Nic, and we’ll talk.”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“His world was smoke and coughing. His eyes, Mason realized, were closed because he must have been sleeping. They burned as he opened his lids. The tall, window-bordered ceiling of the old gymnasium became visible, but only as vaguely whitish illumination, like shining a flashlight through fog. Something crackled and snapped above, then drifted lazily downward.”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“Calliope. I know Calliope, too.”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“of Chamber Therapy to the idea of Preacher? That was worth waiting for. “You saw something when you went into Therapy, didn’t you? They put you into a sim, and things”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“Staring at the man, Mason saw the white space press against his awareness. The tiny black dot.  Behind Mason, Watt yelped with recall and gave a little Oh-Shit hop. Remembering something dire, he’d turned and was rushing like hell for … for …  Mason wanted to rub his eyes.  … for a small elderly woman behind a walker. Watt barreled headlong, rushing for her as if she were a live grenade. He stopped short, weapon inches from her face. She hadn’t gotten down. From where Mason stood, that seemed to be the problem. But it shouldn’t matter. The woman was frail, couldn’t swat a fly.  “GET DOWN!” Watt screeched.  After Mason made sure his remaining guard hadn’t moved, he turned. “Easy,” he told Watt.  “I SAID GET DOWN!”  “And I said EASY!” Watt’s gun shook in his hand. His eyes were”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black

“knock your teeth out.”
― Sean Platt, Pattern Black