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Montag snapped the saftey catch on the flame thrower.
"I want you to do this job all by your lonesome, Montag.' Your house, your clean-up."
The earthquake was still shaking and falling and shivering inside him.
"When your you're quite finished,' you're under arrest"
He stood there, his knees half-bent under the great load of tiredness and bewilderment and outrage, letting Beatty hit him without raising a hand."
Beatty struck him a blow on the head that sent him reeling back. The green bullet in which Faber's voice whispered and cried, fell to the sidewalk.
Beatty snatched it up, grinning.
We'll trace this and drop it on your friend.
And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling, gibbering mannikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.
The other two firemen did not move.
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