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Beneath the cold alloy scales, venom made of data flows. Each flick of the serpent's tongue probes the dark, carving out an electronic circuit that leads the homeless snake back to its "nest." Each cycle of data in and out leaves untraceable fragments of corrupted code — much like its user, driven by instinct to chew through truth's rigid shell. "It says... this time, the target's hiding somewhere nice and warm." — Cissia brushes a hand over the subtly warm serpent head, her smile hovering between danger and anticipation.
