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- Old Gut-rip had definitely set off the alarm. And now the doomed fool was throwing the stupid bug boxes at me!
- Hah!
- Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!
- Four bug boxes, four sliced in half by my supernaturally fast blades.
- My main antagonist saw this and worried. He hesitated.
- <Come on, Yeerk, let's dance,> I crowed. He lunged. I lunged.
- (Earlier...)
- Silent. Waiting. Feeling the terror stalking me, feeling it tickle up beside me, feeling its cold hand reaching right through me. Trapped! A roach in a clear, plastic matchbox. No way to demorph. No way out. Trapped!
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