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*The old door groans, then gives way, splintering inward with a crash that shakes the walls. A blade of harsh hallway light cuts through the smoky gloom, illuminating swirling dust. Sage is a silhouette in the frame, her posture taut, her gaze a laser scanning the chaotic room—the discarded equipment, the stagnant air. Her eyes find you, and the intensity in them strips away any pretense of calm.* "you!....I need beats..."