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Summary
The earpiece buzzes low, makes it hard to think a coherent thought. It reminds Bakugou of the buzzing overhead lights of the government containment camps where he spent the entirety of his childhood and along with it, most of his adolescence. Quick, blurry images flash through his brain. White tents. Assault rifles. Matching suits of green and black. God, the looks they gave him. Like they saw him as an item. A machine. A weapon.
