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Friday, April 18

Thin Jack: Prologue

Drake sat across from Blade, tapping a pen on the scratched wood. Drake’s desk looked as if it had been thrown out a window, dragged down the street, and then after it had broken apart, put back together in his office. Staring at him, Blade was suddenly conscious of Drake’s age. When Drake stood, he towered. But sitting, he looked like a tired, old man.

To Blade’s surprise, he didn’t immediately get a reprimand. “You look like s***t. How’s your pain?” he asked with his thick Scottish accent.

Blade swallowed. “I’m fine,” was all he said.

He wasn’t fine. Since that…THING had bitten him, the wounds never healed. They oozed all the time. He had to take anticoagulants to stop the bleeding, and that only slowed it to a trickle. He changed his dressing every night. [
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posted by Mike Tresca at 6:14 AM


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