The night had folded into itself, leaving behind a city cloaked in the grime of yesterday's sins. Max Knight leaned against the brick wall of a rundown bar, the glow of his cigarette casting fleeting shadows on his face. The streets were empty, save for the occasional drunk stumbling home or a stray cat hunting for scraps. This was the city's true face—unvarnished, unapologetic, and utterly indifferent.
The bar door creaked open, and Vivian stepped out, her silhouette sharp against the dim light inside. She approached Max, her heels clicking on the wet pavement, a sound that seemed to echo the pulse of the city's underbelly.
"They're ready," she said, her voice low and steady.
Max nodded, taking one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the gutter. "Let's get this over with."
