The Fortress And The Broken Kingthe Air Inside The Master Study Of My Estate Always Smelled Of Old Leather, Spilled Bourbon, And The Heavy, Metallic Tang Of Unspent Fury. Outside, A Ruthless Chicago Downpour Lashed Against The Floor-To-Ceiling Bulletproof Glass Windows, Transforming The Glittering City Skyline Into A Blurry Wash Of Grey And Neon. Inside, The Silence Was Absolute, Punctuated Only By The Steady, Mechanical Hum Of My Custom Motorized Wheelchair.