The Pale Protocol
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the line between the concrete walls of the bunker and the world outside, a world that you were told was safe, that was told to you in the crisp, unyielding voice of the High Command, a voice that seemed to emanate from the very stone, a voice that demanded you look away from the window, that you look instead at the...
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