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I looked out over the men gathered in the training ground at the Great Saber Gang’s home base. Two hundred or so had turned out, in every state you could name: arms wrapped in bandages, faces puffed up and swollen, legs dragging. They all looked uneasy, and they had reason to be.
In less than two hours the Bosses they served were killed and the rest of them put down — of course they’re worried.
Especially since their lives hung on what sort of man ended up on top.
I walked forward, unhurried, and stepped up onto a wooden crate.
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