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As their newest prisoner of war slept on her cot, her power-supressing bracelets were almost finished bonding to her genetic structure. The walls around her were white and unadorned, and the concrete floor beneath her, cold.
At the opposite wall was a small table with a few pens, a notebook, and a little box of toiletries. Toothbrush, toothpaste, cup, comb, and soap, right next to the toilet, sink, and mirror in the corner.
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