The neon lights flickered in a desperate rhythm, like the pulse of the city under stress, reflecting off the rain-slick streets. The three silhouettes that moved through the mist weren't just part of the landscape; they were its dark heartbeat.
Max's face was set in lines of determination as they entered the dingy backroom of an equally dingy bar, the kind of place where secrets were both kept and spilled for the right price. The air was thick with smoke and desperation.
"Are we sure about this?" Elena's voice cut through the murmur of the low conversations, sharp as the edge of a knife. Her eyes scanned the room, missing nothing.
"It's our best lead. Simmons' intel led us here. We need to find the connection," Max replied, his gaze never leaving the man sitting alone in the far corner.
The Hunter's approach was more direct. "I'll handle this. You two, watch the doors." There was an edge of command in his voice that brooked no argument.
As The Hunter approached the lone figure, the man looked up, his eyes wary. A quick exchange of nods, and then words were exchanged, too low for eavesdroppers.
Max and Elena stood guard, their senses heightened. Max's hand rested casually near his concealed weapon, a precaution born of too many double-crosses.
"You think he'll talk?" Elena murmured, her voice barely audible over the clink of glasses and the low growl of a jukebox playing an old blues track.
"He'll talk. He's got nowhere else to go," Max replied, his eyes on The Hunter, who now sat, his posture relaxed but deceptive.
The conversation at the corner table lasted longer than expected. When The Hunter finally stood, his face was unreadable. He nodded slightly to Max and Elena, and they made their way out into the cool, damp air.
"What did he say?" Elena asked as soon as they were out of potential earshot.
"He confirmed it. The East End gangs are gearing up for something big. They've been getting arms. Heavy stuff, not just the usual handguns and knives," The Hunter's voice was grave.
Max's expression darkened. "Simmons was right. This isn't just a turf war. It's an arms race, and it could tear the city apart."
Elena looked between them, her decision firm. "We need to stop it. Before it starts. We need a plan."
Max nodded, his mind already working through scenarios. "We'll need more than just us. It's time to call in some favors. We're going to need all the help we can get."
As they walked back towards their car, the city around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm to break. The neon lights continued to blink, like warning signs no one could ignore. The shadows they cast were darker than usual, as if presaging the darkness to come.