The Faded Frequency
The engine coughed, a wet, rattling sound that echoed off the corrugated walls of the transport van, and Elias Thorne checked the timestamp on his notebook before writing the first line of the entry, his pen moving with the deliberate, heavy precision of a man who has spent two decades filling out intake forms in triplicate. It was 0400 hours, the date stamped in the margin as November 14th,...
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