The city's heartbeat quickened as night fell, each beat a desperate throb against the encroaching darkness. Neon lights bled across the rain-slicked streets, painting them with a garish glow that only accentuated the underlying decay. Max Hartwell navigated through this urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of his mission pressing heavily on his shoulders.
He parked his car in a deserted lot, the engine's hum dying into silence. The rendezvous point was a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Neon City, a relic of a bygone era now serving as a breeding ground for the city's illicit underbelly. Max stepped out, his senses heightened, scanning the area for threats. Elena followed, her movements as fluid and silent as a predator's.
