The Golden Song
The man in the cell was screaming. He was not screaming at me, exactly, but at the air where my face had been a second before. His voice was a jagged thing, tearing at the plaster. I held the door open with my foot. The metal was cold against my boot, slick with the damp of the basement. "Your badge is a lie," he shouted. The words were wet, spitting. "It is not a shield. It is a cage." I...
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