Corrigan crept up to the bar, cautiously moving around it. It looked like he was copying all the moves he’d seen in old cop movies and westerns, and doing it rather badly. He lowered the pistol. There was no one behind the bar. There was however, an open trapdoor. And that would mean the bounty hunter was - .“Don’t move!” Came Beck’s distant, slightly muffled, barked order. “My turn, I think!
-Christina Engela
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