PREVIEW
... Market ten minutes early, soaking in the chaotic energy of New Vein’s underbelly. Neon signs bathed the narrow street entrance in garish blues and pinks, illuminating the throngs of people hustling through the security checkpoints. Vendors called out their wares in at least three different languages. The smell of street food—grilled meat, frying oil, and sweet pastries—mingled with the metallic tang of Monster Core fragments being hawked at unlicensed stalls.
This was my kind of place. T ...
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