Neon Dirge for a Burnt City
The rain in the Sector was not water; it was a chemical slurry that tasted of copper and old regrets. Detective Thorne leaned against a rusted pillar, watching the holographic advertisements flicker over the ruins of the Old Quarter. The city had burned forty years ago, a fire that had liquidated the upper class and left the rest of them to rot in the neon glow of a corporate afterlife. Thorne...
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