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Wasteland Tales #31

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He stares down the barrel of his assault rifle, listening to the night. Everything is quiet. The Hole hangs in the air, still, innocent. He knows his brother Watchers think that’s a good sign. They’re getting complacent.
He’s never been that trusting.
It’s been quiet for weeks now.
Like it’s waiting for something.
Let it wait. When it finally burps some fresh monstrosity into the world, he’ll be ready. Just like always.
He came to the Wall to find death. Now they call him Reaper. It’s a name he’s earned in blood.
Let hell come. He waits to greet it.

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