#95527 - There were traces of battles from the last hundred years, houses with their paint scraped off by the peeling fingernails of the dead, riddled with bullets, and marked with the emblem of whatever warlord ruled the territory at the time. Despite a century of neglect, it had aged very well. What had taken him? Had they all just seen what they thought they had seen? They stood like marionettes, their empty guns held loosely in their hands, realizing how impotent they were.
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