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Rain slicked the asphalt like spilled ink as Mara jogged up the last flight of stairs to the rooftop. The city below was a restless grid of headlights and neon, but hereāabove the noiseāeverything tightened to a single point: an old metal sign bolted to the parapet, letters long rusted away except one stubborn stencil left faintly readable: WWWFSIBLOGCOM TOP.