The Faded Shield
The rain against the window of the laboratory was not water, but a relentless, rhythmic hammering of grey dust. Elias Thorne stood before the spectral analyzer, his reflection ghostly in the darkened glass, a pale figure suspended in the humming dark. The room smelled of ozone and old copper, a scent that had seeped into his pores over twenty years of service to the Bureau of Anomalous...
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