The Distant Metropolis
The rain did not fall so much as it was ejected from the sky, a dense, oily mist that clung to the soot-blackened brick of the city and seeped into the pores of the men who walked it. It was a Tuesday in November, the kind of gray that sucked the color out of the world, leaving only the dull rust of iron and the pale, sickly glow of gaslight. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood on the corner of Vane...
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