The Faded Dust
The gray dust caked my knuckles as I pressed my face against the cold iron of the holding cell door. Inside, Silas Vane sat on the concrete floor, his shoulders hunched, his breath rattling in a chest that sounded like dry leaves skittering over pavement. I had come to secure my pension, to lock up the "Dust Man" who had been stealing from the wealthy districts, but the air in here was thick...
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