Breedbus [Web]

Kaelen said nothing. She’d learned that words were a luxury for people who expected to live past Tuesday.

“Where to?” Kaelen asked.

. 🏈 Scouting Methodology Broaddus uses a specific vernacular and "stacking" method typical of NFL front offices: The "Stack": He ranks players vertically within position groups based on a "final team grade" rather than just a linear Big Board. Positional Trait Grades: He focuses on specific physical and mental traits (e.g., "burst," "mental processing," "toughness") on a 1-7 scale. The "Eye Test": His write-ups often focus on physical builds, using scouts' jargon like "good bubble" (referring to a player's glutes/lower body power) or "V-shaped torso". ⚖️ Critical Reception Public feedback on Broaddus’s "Draft Buzz" write-ups is mixed, particularly among the hardcore scouting community: Redundancy: Some users on Reddit note that his written reports can feel copy-pasted or contain conflicting info (listing the same trait as both a strength and weakness). Accuracy vs. Intel: While his technical scouting is sometimes questioned, his breedbus

She was a Breeder legend, a ghost story. Vess had been the lead geneticist on the original sterilization project. When it failed, she didn't seek a cure. She sought a workaround . If people couldn’t make babies the old way, she’d make them in vats. If the vats failed, she’d stitch viable tissue together into walking, breathing incubators. She called them Amalgams . The cartel called them her daughters. Everyone else called them monsters.

The rear emergency door was torn off its hinges with a sound like a tin can being peeled open. Standing in the rain was a woman, her body crudely stitched together from what looked like four different people—different skin tones, different muscle densities, one arm longer than the other. Her eyes were mismatched: one blue, one yellow. She wore a tattered lab coat over a bulletproof vest. Kaelen said nothing

Thorne, slumped against the steering wheel, coughed a laugh. “Told you. No one on this bus has a choice. Not even me. Especially not me.”

The Breedbus pulled away from the curb, its grates rattling, its engine coughing smoke into the poisoned sky. Behind it, Vess’s body lay dissolving in the coolant rain. Ahead, a city of ghosts and a future with no guarantees. The "Eye Test": His write-ups often focus on

Kaelen stood up, blood trickling from her nose. “I’m not a donor. I’m a broadcast. Thorne didn’t collect me because I’m viable. He collected me because I’m a weapon. A psychic feedback loop. Every Amalgam you’ve ever built is wired to a network. And I’m the kill switch.”

Thorne was their finest—and most deranged—harvester. The Breedbus was his mobile clinic. He’d drive through the contaminated zones, scan the feral settlements, and "collect" anyone with a genetic marker above 0.5 on the Viability Index. He told himself he was a shepherd of the species. A necessary monster.