The Crimson Cipher
The Crimson Cipher ACT I: THE WOMAN IN THE RED DRESS I know rain in New York by the way it smells. There is a particular metallic tang that rises off the asphalt when it hits the neon signs, like the city itself is bleeding light. The night I met Marcus Kane, it was raining that way outside the Velvet Note, and I was wearing the kind of red dress that makes men forget their own names. My name...
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