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He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Wood. Wood in their favour. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide.
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