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The door opens, and a man in a large trench coat enters the bar. He moves with deliberate steps, each one thumping heavily against the floor. He walks up to the bar, glancing at the selection of drinks, then walks behind the bar and types in a code on a locked cabinet. The cabinet opens, and the man takes out a large container. He opens it, and pours a glowing green liquid into a glance. The liquid sizzles and bubbles menacingly as the man sits down in an easy chair, surveying the bar. His eyes are obscured by his reflective black shades, and his scarred face twists into a grin. Raising his glass to the few bar patrons who were watching him, he downs the mysterious drink in a single, smooth gulp. Releasing a suppressed burp, he crosses his legs and relaxes back into the chair.
"What a way to greet someone, SF." I say, unstrapping my pulse rifle and blowing the cyclops in two. I then aim at the upper half and fire near one hundred rounds into it until it's nothing but burning ash.
"Anyways, how 'bout that autograph?"
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