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Her phone, left behind on the ruined carpet, displayed a single notification:

Unlimited, after all, goes both ways.

Tanisha tried to drop the gun. It stuck to her palm.

It wasn’t in the parking lot. It unfolded from her phone’s speaker grille, metal petals peeling back like a metallic orchid, until a 1959 Eldorado convertible sat idling on her living room rug. Its tail fins were sharp enough to shave with. The engine purred with the subsonic threat of a sleeping allosaur.

“Drive,” she decided.

The gun never ran out.

Tanisha looked at the gun. Looked at the car. The Eldorado’s back seat was open, engine running, keys glowing in the ignition.

Outside, the city was gone. Through her melted window frame stretched a jungle of giant ferns and rusted highway overpasses. And from the undergrowth came a sound she knew from hours of arcade cabinets: the thump-thump-thump of a velocirpator pack on the hunt.

The cracked screen of Tanisha’s Android flickered green. She’d downloaded Cadillacs And Dinosaurs Unlimited Gun Cheat from a forum that smelled like burnt routers and broken promises. The icon was a crudely drawn pistol biting a T-rex tail.

“Shoot,” the car purred. “Or don’t. The cheat doesn’t care. But they’re hungry, and you’re the last human on this server.”

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