The black SUV rolled through the western backstreets of S-City.
Rainwater reflected the crimson glow of neon signs across cracked asphalt while distant sirens echoed somewhere far beyond the slums. Unlike the polished financial districts or heavily fortified northern sectors, the western districts felt alive in a dangerous, predatory way.
A silver wolf insignia on most shops, and passing heavies.
Fenrir Tattoos.
These became a necessity after the previous attacks by the Silver and Nosferatu clans. The ink was created with a unique chemical that would react whenever it came into contact with the corrupted corpse poison the Nosferatu used to transform themselves.
Heavily tested to avoid accidental discharge, most of the bouncers and guards patrolling now happily accepted such badges of honour.
Maybe it was the 20% pay rise.
Nikolai didn't know, and right now he couldn't care less.
