The Obsidian Heist
The rain in the Hub doesn't fall; it leaks. It's a greasy, iridescent drizzle that smells of ozone and desperation, coating the chrome spires of the galactic center in a layer of filth. I'm Elias Thorne, a Fixer. If you lost a prototype weapon in a black hole or a spouse in a memory-wipe clinic, I'm the guy you call. The "Devourer" wasn't a creature. It was the Syndicate. The Syndicate didn't...
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