The city was a wretched beast, its claws sinking into the souls of those who dared to navigate its dark underbelly. Max Slade stood at the edge of a dilapidated rooftop, the wind whispering secrets as it ruffled his trench coat. Below, the neon lights flickered like dying stars, casting long, distorted shadows on the rain-slicked streets.
Vivian joined him, her silhouette a graceful shadow against the cityscape. "Max," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the distant wail of sirens. "We've shaken the hornet's nest. Marcone's fall has left a vacuum, and it's only a matter of time before someone tries to fill it."
Max took a drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly before he exhaled a plume of smoke into the night. "We need to hit them before they regroup. Cut off the head of the snake before it has a chance to strike again."
