The Lone Sentinel
The rain in Neo-Noir City didn't just fall; it judged. It washed the grime of the lower levels into the gutters, but it could never touch the filth of the spires. Jack Sterling was a man who lived in the gutters. A former Special Ops commander with a dishonorable discharge and a liver that was failing faster than the city's power grid, he spent his nights drinking synthetic rye and remembering...
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