Sample V-04: The Precision Decay
The sterile white walls of the Zurich Institute felt like a shroud. Lucas sat in the testing chamber, his breathing slow and rhythmic, his eye pressed against the optic lens of the high-precision rifle. The target was a microscopic dot of red, three hundred meters away in a vacuum-sealed tunnel. *Click.* The shot was perfect. A direct hit. The technician behind the glass cheered, noting the...
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