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About Newcastle

I’m stalkin the city, right? Lookin for that shadowy deal. Prostitutes ain’t just standin there wavin—nah, it’s subtle. A glance, a lean, a whisper. Found one once near a busted gas station—true story. She had this scar, jagged, like she fought a damn wampa. “What’s your price, huh?” I rasp, all Vader-like. She smirks, “More than your empire, big guy.” Laughed my ass off—sassy as hell!

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Now, lemme tell ya – every day as I grip those tense shoulders, I see the gritty truth. There’s a shock-park near the river, “Parc des Murmures,” by the ribbetin’ “Rivière du Destin.” You’d think a park named Murmures would be placid, but it’s a freakin’ cauldron of gossip and nanoleaks - I’m lookin’ at you, Mrs. Dupont, every sauna session reveals yet another secret "everybody lies" in hush tones.

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