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... The abandoned auto body shop smelled of stale motor oil, rust, and ozone. Nia had set up a secure, air-gapped terminal in the corner of the garage, surrounded by a fortress of empty energy drink cans and tangled cables. The ghost-admin partition of Project Oracle was running smoothly on her encrypted laptop, feeding off a heavily masked, untraceable connection to the Vanguard servers deep beneath the city.

"This thing is absolutely terrifying," Nia said, rubbing her bloodshot eyes benea ...

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