The Shadow of the Engine
ACT ONE: THE CALL The rain in Los Angeles had a particular smell that Jack Morrison had never been able to describe. It was not the clean, petrichor scent of rain in the countryside. It was the smell of wet asphalt and exhaust and something metallic, like blood on a tongue. It was the smell of a city that had sold its soul and forgotten the price. Jack sat in his office on the fourth floor of a...
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