The Golden Master
The paper was thin, yellowed at the edges, and smelled of old tobacco. Elias held it with his right hand, his left arm hanging limp by his side, a golden prosthetic that hummed against the cold air. It was a letter from the Ministry, stamped with the black seal of the Iron Guard. It stated that his discharge was denied. It stated that his augmentation was a state asset. It stated that he was to...
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