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... his.” I said, hands stretched out to my awaiting audience.

Cathida did nothing but scoff, arms crossed across the chestplate, empty helmet looming down with condescension. Exactly as she requested to be posed.

Wrath tilted her head slightly, more curious about this than anything.

“Occult. Shotguns.” I said, taking care to add just enough dramatic pause between each word. “Father can’t dodge a bullet, but he can dodge aiming. So hit him with bullets that don’t need aiming. ...

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