The Distant Metropolis
The rain in the city did not fall so much as it hung, a dense, grey curtain that smelled of wet asphalt and the metallic tang of old blood. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood on the edge of the rooftop, his boots soaking through, the cold seeping into the marrow of his legs with a persistence that felt personal, almost accusatory. He was a man who had spent twenty years trying to impose order on the...
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