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Washing Up Ashore

He sat on a massive boulder as the storm developed.
Watching something unnatural, something only a few privileged have witnessed. It ended as quickly as it began, with a man washing up ashore. He stood and slowly walked out of the surf.
He got up and walked towards his base camp. A pot of food among his items. Its contents were fresh.
“Breakfast?” he asked him.
“This kind of traveling’s known for bringing hunger to a man’s stomach”
“I’m White” the man at the beach replied.
“Black” he said, eating quickly. He was done in a few minutes. “Been here long?”
“3 Days”
“Are you familiar with the layout of our Empire?
“More or less, what I can’t make out are these” said White, handing Black empty rifle shells. “Who else is here?”
Black smiled. “So you haven’t found them yet?”
Did The Progenitors send anyone before us?"
Black searched through White’s things at his base camp. Found his bag.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“It doesn’t matter, White, mission’s done, practically, now we see it through”

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