Act I: The Neon Noir
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash things clean; it only smeared the grime of the city into a shimmering, oily kaleidoscope. I sat in my office, a room that smelled of stale tobacco and old regrets, watching the ceiling fan slice the moonlight into jagged strips. I was a man who dealt in truths people paid to forget, a disgraced lawyer who now operated in the gray spaces of the law, where the...
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