Comics The Price

Chrome Dogs · The Toll

The Price

He has never been heard to speak.

Panel 1 of 5. Chrome Dogs with mismatched chrome limbs wait outside a chop shop in the Wick while one grinds metal by a burning barrel.

The Wick. Chrome Dogs don't have rites, rosters, or a chief.

Panel 2 of 5. The Toll, a hulking scrap machine on a welded throne, is carried down an alley by four machine bearers as gang members step back.

What they have is the Toll.

He arrives at a pack. Never at a fight.

Panel 3 of 5. A gang member kneels and offers a chrome forearm to the Toll, who reaches down for it.

He charges a price in chrome.

He takes it.

Panel 4 of 5. A monitor labelled REC-ARCHIVE-07 plays grainy archive footage of a throne being carried through the rain.

Meridian files call him 'it'.

The street says 'he'.

Panel 5 of 5. Extreme close-up of the Toll's grille mouthplate and red sensor eyes, rain on his rusted plates.

Nobody knows what he was before the chrome.

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