The city was never silent, even in the small hours of the morning. It groaned and sighed, a living, breathing entity of despair and defiance. Max Slade walked the rain-slicked streets, the taste of victory bitter on his tongue. The defeat of the Wolf should have felt like a triumph, but instead, it hung over him like a leaden weight.
The fog clung to the city like a shroud, muffling the sounds of distant traffic and the occasional wail of a siren. The amber glow of streetlights cast long, distorted shadows that danced and flickered, hiding the secrets of the night. Max's footsteps echoed softly, the rhythm a grim reminder of the steps that had brought him to this point.
He paused at the corner of 9th and Main, a crossroads of memories and regrets. The old diner where he had met Vivian for the first time still stood, its neon sign a flickering beacon in the gloom. He pushed open the door, the familiar jingle of the bell a stark contrast to the heaviness in his heart.
