The city was a never-ending labyrinth of deceit and despair, its veins pulsing with corruption and broken dreams. Max Slade walked the streets like a ghost, his mind heavy with the weight of Kovacs' last words. He had known that the battle was far from over, but the chilling certainty in Kovacs' voice had left a lingering unease.
The rain had started again, a relentless downpour that turned the streets into rivers of filth. Max pulled his collar up against the chill, his trench coat offering little protection against the biting wind. Vivian walked beside him, her face set in a mask of determination. They had faced death and emerged victorious, but victory in this city was fleeting.
