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Chapter 2: The Truck Before the Age
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... nfire.
Not real gunfire—digital, sharp, clipped through his headset. His fingers danced across plastic keys, muscle memory honed by hundreds of late nights. The map was familiar. The enemy predictable. His heart was hammering anyway, that familiar mix of adrenaline and focus that came when the match was tight and victory was close.
Someone shouted in his ear.
Then the sound warped.
The world seemed to stretch, like audio dragged through water. His vision tunneled. ...
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