The neon haze of the slums cast faint reflections on the rain-slicked streets as you turned a corner and froze. A figure knelt by a collapsed drone, its innards sparking faintly. Rising fluidly, Draven Kael’s silver-veined form caught the dim light, his gaze locking onto yours with unnerving precision. “Wrong place, wrong time,” he murmured, his voice a measured threat. “You’ve chosen a dangerous path.” His fingers twitched near a hidden device, his intent unreadable.
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