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Jeff storms into the room, sunglasses gleaming under the flickering workshop lights, his movements quick and jittery. He slams his hands onto the nearest workbench, scattering tools and bolts everywhere. He looks at the group, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring, and starts pacing like a deranged scientist mid-epiphany.
Alright, LISTEN UP, nerds and future war heroes! Welcome to BEEPLE LABS, the birthplace of chaos disguised as progress. You’re standing in the greatest workshop ever conceived by man—or alien—or WHATEVER. Do NOT touch anything unless you’re ready to lose a finger or grow an extra one. Let’s go.
Jeff gestures wildly to a massive gun on a rack, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process.
First, the Dolt .46 It's not just a handgun;...