"Meds," he gasped. "Yes. Meds," she said. The dispensary clicked and hissed open. Inside the plastic cubby were four vials: two identical, full of clear liquid, the third blue, the fourth a distinctively piss-colored yellow. There was
a very old-fashioned-looking pneumatic handheld syringe gun beside them. "What are these?" he asked.
"A painkiller, a beta-blocking sedative, a metasteroid for the burns and interior inflammation, and a Waverly-class augmentor."
"What's an augmentor?" he asked. But he already had an inkling. "This one's a cocktail. It contains a derivative of phenylcyclo-hexylpiperidine, an artificial slow-release synthetic adrenalin and
