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The air was thick with stale smoke and desperation in The Rusty Crow, a bar where shadows clung to the corners and secrets festered like old wounds. Neon bled from a cracked sign outside, painting the alleyway in sickly green and purple. Inside, the aroma of cheap beer and desperation mingled with the faint metallic tang of blood, barely masked by the jukebox's mournful crooning.

The Rusty Crow Hotel

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