From the top of a building, with the city stretching out before me like a nocturnal tapestry, I gazed intently at the place where the expected loading was to take place. My eyes, glowing with determination, scanned every nook and cranny of the scene unveiled in the shadows.
I had strategically installed the bombs, silent guardians of my mission. The night wind whispered through the buildings, and I waited in the gloom, my figure transformed into a specter high above the metropolis.
The clock ticked inexorably toward the appointed hour. My thoughts were a whirlwind of anticipation and purpose. The district, oblivious to the impending storm brewing in its bowels, continued its indifferent pace.
When the gang members arrived, they would unwittingly unleash their own doom. My gaze, sharp as a blade in the dark, fixed on the spot where the bombs awaited their activation. Every beat of my heart resounded with the echo of the decision taken.
