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... close. Each repetition came with a very faint mechanical whining from deep within the finger joints. Black smoke danced and twisted through his fingers, sinking through the small open seams, fading away.

He flexed one more time, and there was no sound at all that came from any of it. His eye glanced down at his cradled helmet, looking at the interior visor panels. “Armor shows all green. I’m set to go.”

“Good.” I reached out, slapped his shoulder once or twice, and stood back up. ...

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