The Faded Dust
Act I The reclamation yard hummed with the low, persistent grind of scrap metal being fed into the shredders, a sound that vibrated in the teeth of anyone standing within the fence line. Beyond the chain-link, the marsh was being drained, the water sucked back into the earth by pumps that had not worked since the armistice, leaving behind a landscape of mud and rusted iron. Leif Holm stood by...
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