The city was a vast ocean of darkness, broken only by the flickering lights of streetlamps and neon signs. The rain came down in sheets, the kind of downpour that washed away sins and left only raw nerves behind. Max Slade sat in his car, parked in an alleyway, watching the raindrops race down the windshield. He lit a cigarette, the flare of the match casting fleeting shadows on his face. The smoke curled around him like a lover's embrace, a comforting presence in the cold, unforgiving night.
Vivian sat beside him, her eyes scanning the street outside, every muscle in her body tense. "You think he'll show?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain.
Max took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "He'll show. Carson loves the drama. He wouldn't miss this for the world."
Vivian nodded, but her eyes never stopped moving. "And if it's a trap?"
