The Faded Alibi
The brass trigger guard was cold, gritty with the residue of old grease and the sweat of my palms, and I held it up to the light to inspect the pitting that had formed along the left side, a small corruption in the metal that mirrored the tremor in my hand. I am Elias Thorne, a sergeant in the Royal Army Medical Corps, attached to a field hospital that exists in a sort of limbo, a place where...
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