The Golden Scar
The badge was heavy. It sat on the left lapel of the grey suit, a square of polished brass etched with a weeping eye. Elias Thorne adjusted it. He smoothed the fabric. He checked his reflection in the dark glass of the elevator. The face that looked back was thin. The eyes were red. The hands shook. He did not stop them. The building was a monolith of glass and steel. It rose into the grey sky...
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