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... t #47’s heavy blast doors groaned as they sealed shut behind them, cutting off the low hum of underground machinery. The only sounds left were the night wind, the crunch of boots against gravel, and the distant whine of turrets adjusting their scope.
Sobin stood by his truck, arms folded as Miriam’s soldiers finished unloading the last of the crates. Each was stacked neatly in the cargo bed, their metal edges glinting under the harsh floodlights. The faint aroma of dried grains and seale ...
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