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... as a yawn threatened to split his face in half.

The warehouse nightmare had come again last night.

Flashes of that stitched mask.

The coppery smell of blood.

The crushing weight of failure pressing down on his chest.

It was Less intense this time, but still enough to leave him restless.

’Gotta get used to this.’

He knew worse was coming.

More blood.

More battles.

No point dwelling on it now.

...

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