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Chapter 210: The Final Dance
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Chapter 212: Exhausted
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... s for ankles and wheels and men. Inigo dropped his weight low, one hand on the Black Dragon’s track pad, and let the world have him the way you let surf take you—loose, never limp. The S-60 skated, its spindly carriage legs screaming against glassed stone. The mortar baseplate hopped twice and dug in like a stubborn mule. The Mk 19 slewed, grinning, and waited to be asked again.
"Not a wave," Inigo said through gritted teeth as gravel tried to become ball bearings. "A roll. Fine."
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