Neon City bled crimson in the twilight, its veins glowing with the pulse of desperate lives. Max Hartwell stood on the edge of the rooftop, the wind clawing at his trench coat, the city's heartbeat thudding in his ears. The Architect's words echoed in his mind, a grim reminder that the battle was far from over.
Max lit a cigarette, the ember flaring in the gathering darkness. Below, the streets writhed with activity, oblivious to the menace lurking in the shadows. He knew the victory at the water treatment plant was a temporary reprieve. The Hydra had more heads, and each one needed to be severed.
His phone buzzed, jolting him from his reverie. "Hartwell," he answered, his voice a low growl.
"It's Violet," came the reply. "We've got a new lead. The Architect wasn't lying about others. There's a meeting tonight, a gathering of his remaining lieutenants."
"Where?" Max's eyes narrowed, anticipation sharpening his senses.
