The rain poured down like a relentless interrogator, beating the truth out of the city. Max Hastings stood by the window of their small office, staring out into the dark streets. His reflection in the glass was that of a man on the edge, haunted by the shadows of the city he had vowed to protect. Beside him, Victoria Thorne was a silhouette of determination, her eyes scanning the room's dimly lit confines for answers that seemed always just out of reach.
"We're in deeper than we thought, Vic," Max said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. "Blackwood's operations are like a hydra. Cut off one head, and two more take its place."
Victoria leaned against the desk, her hands resting on the scattered documents they had retrieved from Blackwood's mansion. "We need to find the heart of this beast, Max. The center of his power."
