The Wistful Show
The sky splits open. Not with thunder, but with a silence so loud it shatters the glass in the high-rise windows. You feel it in your teeth first. A vibration. A hum. The air turns to lead. You are standing on the roof of the Kessler Tower, the wind whipping your tactical jacket, but you do not move. You do not blink. The city below is a circuit board of light, dead and waiting. Your name is...
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