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... this early hour, with the soft morning light stretching long shadows across the tarmac.

Arthur stepped off the Osborn family jet, his black overcoat draped elegantly over his shoulders, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

The familiar hum of the city greeted him, traffic buzzing, distant chatter blending into a symphony of normalcy, punctuated by the occasional wail of a siren. Predictable. Comforting.

He squinted against the rising sun, a faint smile breaking through ...

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