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... ss spiderwebbed, then collapsed inward with a soft, dangerous clatter. She reached through immediately, fingers brushing the inside lock, and with a muted click the doors came loose.

Every gun came up at once.

No one spoke.

We slipped inside like a held breath.

The air smelled wrong— stale fabric, dust, old mildew. Mannequins loomed in the dark, half-lit shapes frozen mid-pose, like people who’d stopped running and never finished dying.

"Alright," I said q ...

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