The Golden Scar
The air in the interrogation chamber tasted of ozone and old copper, a metallic tang that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the specific flavor of his own impending ruin. He sat across from Director Vane, a man whose suit was so impeccably tailored it seemed to repel the very dust that choked the rest of the Refinery, and watched the Director’s pen hover over a clipboard like a surgeon’s...
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