The city slept uneasily, its restless dreams wrapped in neon haze. Max Slade knew that even in these brief moments of calm, the storm of violence and intrigue churned beneath the surface. Tonight, he stood on the precipice of it all, ready to drag the truth into the light.
He sat in the dimly lit office, the Architect secured to a chair in the center of the room. The air was thick with tension, every breath a battle against the anticipation coiling in his chest. Max's gaze bored into the Architect, whose eyes were hidden behind the gleam of his wire-rimmed glasses, reflecting the single flickering bulb above.
"Who are you working for?" Max's voice was a low growl, a tiger ready to pounce.
The Architect's lips curled into a sinister smile. "You're asking the wrong questions, Slade."
Max's fist connected with the Architect's jaw, the force snapping his head back. "I'll keep asking until I get the right answers."
