The Chicago Cipher
The rain in Chicago didn't wash anything away; it just moved the filth from one street to another. I sat in a booth at a greasy spoon, watching the reflection of the neon 'EAT' sign in my coffee. My name is Jax. At least, that's the name on the birth certificate of the kid I'm currently inhabiting. In my previous life, I was a ghost for a government that didn't exist, a man who could disappear...
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