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and yet another.
Why now? It's been so long, I would have thought you'd gotten tired of me. Or did the prospect of witnessing my new fall from grace too precious for you to let pass?
To the victors the spoils, after all— and for the weak, defeat. Isn't that how it goes?
I ask again. Why.
To the victors the spoils, after all— and for the weak, defeat. Isn't that how it goes?
I ask again. Why.

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The answer presents itself, I should think.
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