The room was dim, soaked in blue neon light that filtered lazily through the shutter slats of a stained window. The scent of cheap perfume, synthetic wine, and some moisturisers, lubricants and the scent of used condoms clung to the air like humidity. It was the kind of place people didn't speak about in daylight, even in Nova City. It was one of the many nameless dens nestled in its sin-ridden underbelly.
Axel sat at the edge of the creaking bed, shirtless, boots still laced, a cigarette burning lazily between his fingers. His other hand held a sleek, obsidian black tablet.
The screen flickered in a dull blue glow, feeding him a live visual. It was grainy but functional. On it, Contrario stood in the underground remains of the Noix Forge. Covered in grime, blood, and the old firelight of the forge.
"The boy looks like a war-born ghost." Axel's eyes narrowed with eerie calm as he watched Contrario pull something from the rubble.
The bag.
