In a desperate attempt to save your life you disconnect your shoot and let yourself fall. The hungry wasp zooms over your head, the beating of its wings like a passing hurricane. Now the ground tumbles up at you all too fast. You pass through the limbs of a tree big enough to contain nations in its branches and see a table below you laid out in picnic fashion. Calling to the fore of your mind your early paratrooper training you attempt to angle your descent toward...
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