The Neon Rain's Lie
(V-04: Film Noir Despair) The city of Veridian was a concrete throat, choking on its own smog and neon. It rained every night—a greasy, chemical drizzle that turned the asphalt into a mirror for the flashing signs of synthetic-meat shops and neural-link parlors. I’m a private investigator, which is just a fancy way of saying I get paid to dig through other people's trash until I find something...
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