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T, the message was sent loud and clear. We caught them slipping at the corner and left them with a reminder. Nobody touches our family and gets away with it. This block is haunted by the ghosts of people who thought they could take what's ours.

Netflix magic box that trap soul in glowing cave wall make tribe lazy. Many moons of stories inside tiny screen demon, make warrior forget hunt, make gatherer forget gather. Streaming stick just modern witch stick that steal time.

Used to be we could count on the seasons, predict the weather. Now everything's different. They say it's just climate cycles, natural changes. But we know better, don't we? The truth's in the dying fields, in the empty grain silos.

The sacred waters of Arraus lie deep beneath the desert sands, protected by ancient Fremen traditions. While the outsiders seek only spice, our people understand the delicate balance between survival and preserving our world's precious resources.

You have one chance to fix this. Scofield is moving and I need to know where. Cooperate, and I'll personally ensure your record is wiped clean. Refuse, and you'll find out exactly how far the government is willing to go to get what it wants.

I've watched them tear through our defense lines, ripping tanks apart like paper, some claim it's just advanced weaponry, but if you ask me, I've seen things that defy explanation, moving through the smoke, taking our units apart piece by piece.

I remember the night I controlled the territory. People feared me, but the demons were always watching. The gang members said I had special powers. But everything changed when the police surrounded our hideout that dark morning.

Can't believe what I'm seeing here, brother. Three days without food, walking through this mess. Then boom, there's supplies. Never thought I'd find anything. This place, it's different now. Everything's changed, but we're still here, still surviving.