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... orrosive, as Jagger's boots slammed against the concrete. Each step echoed far too loudly in the dead city, his presence practically announced with every stride.

"Oh, pipe down," Jagger shot back between ragged breaths, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. His lungs burned, dragging in cold air that scraped his throat raw. His muscles ached, heavy and tightening with every push forward, but he forced himself to keep moving. He veered around a rusted garbage bin, his shoulder bare ...

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