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Cain stood at the edge of the fractured avenue, boots planted in glassed asphalt and pulverized stone. Towers leaned like broken teeth, their lower floors gutted, their upper skeletons still burning where the Grid’s failure had ignited every contingency at once. Sirens wailed without pattern. Not alarms—laments. Systems crying out because no one had told them how to stop.
He breathed slowly, forcing the tremor out of his hands.
This was the cost of cutting too deep.
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