insane--machine

 “You knew Caitlyn’s daddy?” said Kim-na, her rifle aimed squarely at the shadowy sliver of a person standing in front of her.  He smiled, his teeth forming a pale crescent-moon shape.  “I used to be her father,” he said in that same soothing, calm baritone voice. The corrupted figures in the distance turned toward the stadium and solemnly bowed when the clock struck six.  The tennis court stopped playing its spirited match and turned quizzically toward the odd procession that was gathering near it.  On a platform near the stadium, a disheveled heap of hair and bones, wrapped in a black cloak and sporting fuzzy pu