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Back at the gym, where everything reeked faintly of metal, sweat, and a hint of desperation from lifters trying too hard, a single clone sat quietly in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest. Number Two’s face was frozen in a patient smile, the kind that had long passed from hopeful to numb. His back leaned against a rack of unused foam rollers, and his eyes stared at nothing in particular, occasionally blinking with a mechanical slowness. Nobody noticed him. People walked past him ...
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