Prologue

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TWO
The resurrection worked.
I can hunt.


THIRTEEN
Sammy Lawrence.
I hated that musician.
His screams were the only good music he ever made.


FORTY-THREE
He keeps getting caught.
Looks like I'll be ripping off a projector's head.


SIXTY
He came alone.
My own words betray me.
He has the reel.
Good.


EIGHTY-THREE
He's a persistent little-


EIGHTY-FIVE
He won.
He did what he was supposed to.
He saw what I wanted.
. . .
Eighty-five deaths.
Those don't count.
. . .
Cycles count.
. . .
Number one.

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