The air was stale, and the light was grim as dawn tried to creep into the dim corners of Simmons' safe house. It couldn't quite touch the darkness that the night had left behind. Max, Elena, and The Hunter faced Simmons across a scarred table that seemed to bear the weight of their mutual distrust more than the dust-laden air could.
"You think you can just walk into my ground, dig up what I've buried, and walk out?" Simmons' voice was low, edged with the kind of danger that came from being cornered too often.
Elena leaned forward, her eyes not leaving Simmons. "We're all looking for the same thing here. You know the city is changing, new players are stepping into the light, and old ones... they're getting wiped off the map."
Max's gaze was fixed on a map sprawled across the table, streets and names circled, lines connecting dots only he seemed to understand. "We've seen the shifts, Simmons. Your name is on too many lips for comfort. What's your play?"
Simmons laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "My play? You think this is a game, detective?" She flicked a glance at The Hunter. "He knows. Don't you? This isn't about surviving anymore, it's about reigning."
Outside, a car backfired, a sharp report that made them all tense. The Hunter's hand twitched toward his side, where a gun lay hidden, always ready. "Talk is cheap, Simmons. What do you really want?"
Simmons' eyes narrowed, and she pulled out a folder, tossing it onto the table. It slid across the smooth surface, stopping in front of Elena. "I want a truce. You and your shadows back off, and I give you what you need to clean up the filth rising in the East End."
Elena opened the folder slowly, her expression unreadable. Photographs, documents, and notes—a treasure trove or a pandora's box, hard to tell. Her voice was steady as she spoke, "And if we refuse?"
The room chilled as Simmons stood, her silhouette framed against the weak morning light, a specter of old wars and new battles. "Then we burn, all of us. This city isn't big enough for both our ghosts to haunt."
The Hunter stood up, his height casting a long shadow across the floor, reaching like fingers toward Simmons. "You're playing a dangerous game. Ghosts don't live long here."
Max finally looked up, his eyes cold and hard. "We'll consider your offer. But remember, Simmons, we're not the only ghosts in this town, and some are hungrier than others."
As they left, the door closing with a finality that echoed louder than any words, the air seemed to breathe again. The sun broke free of the horizon, casting light that no darkness could hold back for long.
Back on the street, the trio walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Elena finally broke it, her voice a mix of resolve and weariness. "We need to check the veracity of these documents. If what she's offering is real, it could change everything."
Max nodded, his mind already turning over the possibilities and dangers. "Let's get back to our ground. We have work to do."
The city was waking up, unaware of the deals being made in its shadows, or the war that simmered just beneath its surface. But for Max, Elena, and The Hunter, the day had just begun, and it promised nothing but hard choices and harder consequences.