The city was a living, breathing beast, its concrete veins pulsing with a ceaseless flow of sin and secrets. As the embers of dawn flickered to life, the haze of neon lights faded, giving way to the cold reality of the morning. Max Slade stood at his office window, staring at the sprawling metropolis below, his mind a whirl of unanswered questions and relentless doubts.
The precinct was a hive of activity, officers moving with the kind of energy that only a partial victory could inspire. They had struck a blow against the Syndicate, but Max knew it was far from over. The real puppet masters were still out there, pulling strings from the shadows.
His office door creaked open, and Vivian Winters stepped in, her eyes dark with exhaustion but burning with determination. She tossed a folder onto Max's desk, the papers inside spilling out in a chaotic fan.
