The Faded Frontier
"You have the look of a man who has forgotten how to bleed," the Instructor said. His voice was dry, like leaves skittering over gravel. He did not look up from the ledger in his hands. The paper was brittle, yellowed by decades of handling, yet the ink remained black and sharp. "We do not hire ghosts. We hire men who know the weight of their own bodies." I stood in the doorway of the training...
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