The Pale Circus
The memo lay on the desk, the ink still wet, the font a sterile, sans-serif Arial that stripped the words of any human warmth. Elias Thorne stared at the directive. Access Denied. Sub-basement Level 4. Reason: Structural Integrity Concerns. He read it twice, the paper trembling slightly in his hand, not from fear, but from the cold sweat that had been building in his palms since he woke. The...
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