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... etitive.
Moving my arm, I am once again in a garbage bag.
This time, I don't even lurch awake; I just sit there tracing the ceiling fan blades.
"Why do heroes always die! You were a good man, Graves."
"I'm gonna be honest, I'm really not. If you get to know me, you'll learn what a piece of shit I am."
Her eyes widen as she lurches back, grabbing the knife from the nightstand.
"Graves!?"
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