Pop Party Pt. 1 – Passing On
Aja looked down at the small bomb in her hand, weighing it as she waited in line. The exterior was featureless, a plain pink sphere that dully reflected the warehouse lights overhead. In texture it felt almost like greased rubber, yet no residue remained on her fingertips as she caressed it. Squeezing it in her palm, she briefly hid it from view as her olive-skinned fingers curled tightly around it. No part of it gave in the slightest, utterly incompressible. It was surprisingly light and small, feeling almost as if she held a solid gumball, the type given out by coin-operated dispensers at malls. A smiling employee had been making her way down the line, offering drinks to each in the queue. Aja clutched the bomb in her hand, heart starting to pound as the …