The warehouse district stank of rotting fish and burnt ozone, the sour tang of illegal mana refinement clinging to every surface.
Kyle followed Rat (broken nose) and Jory through a maze of crumbling brick alleys, stepping over puddles of something that definitely wasn't water.
The neon signs of Maplewood's red-light district cast garish reflections in the oily sludge, painting the trio in pulsing shades of crimson and electric blue.
Ahead loomed their destination, a rusted metal warehouse with the Viper gang's serpent sigil spray-painted across its corrugated doors.
The coiled snake seemed to writhe in the flickering light, its fangs dripping neon-green paint.
Two mountains of muscle blocked the entrance. The one on the left had biceps thicker than Kyle's thighs, his skin glistening with some sort of enhancement oil.
The other sported a cybernetic eye that whirred as it zoomed in on Kyle's face.
"Hold up," rumbled the oiled giant. "Who's this fresh meat?"
