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Drywall and wood chippings rained on the soldiers helmet, as the sound of far off artillery shook the dilapidated building. For a brief moment, the soldier froze under the doorway, not so much from the knowledge that the doorway was the most sturdy part of what was left of this building, as from primal instinct, some superstitious fear that any movement on his part, no matter how subtle, might somehow cause the building to buckle, and finally come crashing down. The blast sound echoed into the distance, and the soldier regained his composure. Tightening his grip on his gun, he stepped out into the rubble filled street. The city around him was dead, broken and beaten from weeks of continuous shelling. Where there were once businesses, homes, and people, now there were only skeletons. Skeletons …

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