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Fortunately the door opens outward so Sara isn't crushed. It's also built
by Americans so the structual integrity stays. Mostly. Creeeaaaak.
Horrified by all reason, Sara calls a random number and screams for help.
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Unfortunately it was a comic book store five states away and nobody (it was a late niight D&D party) can do anything.
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Coincidentally, it was the Hardee's just down the street. The employees rush over and drive off Josh with carefully laid packs of fries and taser gun darts.
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It was busy, whatever number it is. And for that matter, CREEAAAAAK. Pop! goes a rivet, tearing into Sara's upper right arm.
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Sara had dialed the secret trapdoor number into G.O.O.D. G.U.Y.S. and drops through into it's secondary base below the booth.
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