The Pale Door
"You are stripped of rank. You are stripped of authority. You are a corpse walking in a uniform that no longer fits your body." The voice came from the high seat at the end of the table. It was not loud. It did not need to be. The acoustics of the War Room were designed to swallow sound, to make the air feel thick and pressurized, like the inside of a lung held in a silent scream. You sat at...
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