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... surroundings. White. Endless white, stretching in every direction, as if he were standing in the middle of a fog without horizon or ground.
Then, with a ripple like water disturbed, a polished oak table and a single chair materialized in front of him. He stiffened instantly, hand brushing where his holster should’ve been, only to find nothing. His sidearm, his gear, everything was gone.
"Commander Spencer," a voice echoed, soft yet resounding, as if it came from the air itself. ...
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