VanLipsig’s dark eye flashed angrily. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. “Might want to curtail that kind of language around my guys. They don’t much like being called freaks.”
“We are, though. All of us. I’ve seen the shit you guys can do, sir. You have to admit, it’s freakish.”
VanLipsig lowered his head. “We don’t much talk about it. What we had done to us, we’d like to forget. Most of my men don’t remember what happened. They know they’re missing gaps in their memories and they know they were tampered with. You and I are unique, kid. We remember a lot more.”
“I still have gaps. I can’t remember—what’s her name?” He begged for information.
VanLipsig shook his head. “I wish we could take that away completely, but you’re like me. They’re the freak show.” He nodded at the men in the room. “But we’re super freaks, you and…
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