The Golden Cellar
The cellar was dark. Not the soft, forgiving dark of a bedroom at night, but a heavy, wet darkness that pressed against the skin. Thomas stood in the center of the room, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. He was a man of few words, a captain in the industrial guard force, and his body was a map of old bruises. He had come here to kill. That was the order. The sickness had taken the...
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