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Training Day

Thing about being dead is, well, time suddenly doesn’t matter. Or anything else, really. Being a ghost isn’t at all what those horror movies make it out to be. Except, well, yeah, you’re kind of stuck with ghost clothes that match what you were wearing when you kicked the bucket.

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Shred of Honor [Part III]

The Hellions reached optimal range halfway through their charge; several missiles clawed up the hillside towards the massive Falcon ‘Mech and crimson beams from lasers scythed across its legs. The explosions from detonating shells and autocannon fire shook the assault machine but failed to dislodge it; with rock-steady deliberation, Pryde raised his left arm and cut loose with another PPC blast, eviscerating a Cercerops.

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Shred of Honor [Part I]

“Galaxy Commander, what I am about to ask you to do is fit only because of the special nature of your unit,” said Clees. Her face tightened into a grimace. “Even trying to put this to words is an affront to the honor of the Clan, but it must be so.”

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