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Chapter 10: Trouble In The Making
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Chapter 12: The Scrapper’s Gauntlet
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... , sleeves rolled, curls damp with sweat, hammering a perfectly subtle instrument of tasteful violence."
"Easy, handsome," he told the billet. "We’re going to meet a lot of new faces tonight. Try not to rearrange all of them."
Sparks burned his forearms. He hissed, grinned, hammered anyway. The knuckles took shape - clean arcs over the fingers, a squared face for the strike, weight tucked where it would matter. No spikes, no drama. Ugly tools brag. Good ones simply work.
" ...
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