The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 14:37:20 -

The Distant Joke

The rain did not fall; it hovered, a fine, grey mist that clung to the skin and tasted of ozone and old copper. Marcus stood on the balcony of the hotel, his fingers wrapped around the rail, feeling the cold iron bite into his knuckles. He was a man who had spent thirty years enforcing the law, and yet here he was, standing on the edge of a world that had no law, only the slow, grinding decay...

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