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The building sat ahead of him, washed in controlled light, music bleeding through thick walls, people still filtering in like tonight was just another night. He didn’t rush it. He leaned forward slightly and caught his reflection in the bike’s side mirror.

The mask sat perfectly.

The damage it showed looked natural, uneven, ugly in the way fear respected. He tilted his head once, checked the angles, made sure nothing would snag or restrict him when things turned violent. ...

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