The night in Neon City was a fickle lover, alternately caressing and punishing those who wandered her streets. Max Hartwell knew her moods all too well, and tonight, she felt especially treacherous. He sat in his car, the engine idling quietly as he stared at the dilapidated safehouse across the street. The information he had wrested from the informant at the docks pointed to this very building—a decaying husk that hid something far more sinister within.
Violet was in the passenger seat, her eyes scanning their surroundings with the sharpness of a hawk. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a low murmur that cut through the tense silence.
Max nodded, checking his gun one last time before shoving it back into its holster. "Let's do this."
