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... , and chemical tang.

A single bulb burned overhead, swinging on a frayed wire. Shadows sprawled across oil-stained concrete.

They were waiting.

Three men in pale coats — not scientists, not quite soldiers. Somewhere between. Their eyes flat, dead. And behind them, half-lost in shadow: another figure. Taller. Older. The one holding the phone.

The one who spoke.

"You came," he rasped, voice dry as paper.

I kept my expression blank. "You have her?"

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