Venti_______Simp
The city itself was a festering wound, a sprawling concrete beast ruled by the iron fist of humanity's basest instincts: the cold calculus of criminals, the erratic spark of psychopaths, and the suffocating indifference of a broken system.
Nightfall brought no relief, only a denser, more oppressive weight. The day's heat, thick and viscous, still clung to the city's skin like a wet, feverish hand clamped around a gasping throat. It seeped from the sun-baked asphalt, radiated from the grimy brickwork, and hung heavy in the air, a constant, stifling presence. Above, neon signs, cracked and buzzing with faulty wiring, flickered erratically, casting lurid, shifting pools of sickly pinks, electric blues, and acid greens over the slick, garbage-strewn alleyways. Here, the law didn't just bend; it dissolved into the shadows, leaving only the stench of salt air, the metallic tang of fresh blood, and the acrid bite of spilled gasoline to mix into a nauseating urban perfume. Civilians didn't scream when they died here; their final moments were choked whispers, ragged gurgles, and shallow, desperate gasps. Life didn't erupt from them in a theatrical spray, but leaked out, slow and silent, onto the cracked, oil-stained concrete, leaving eyes wide and vacant, staring at nothing but the indifferent, starless sky-