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... ack capsule of dread melting into the city’s indifferent traffic. Inside, the air was thick and claustrophobic, heavy with the scent of cheap air freshener, fear-sweat, and the cold, metallic tang of the guns pointed at them.
[Quiet Life System: What are you doing, Franz?]
What the fuck am I supposed to do? Franz thought back, his internal voice a low, irritated growl. Don’t you see the guns pointing at our heads? We’ll just see where this goes. But this fucker... His eyes flicke ...
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