Word on the street... Another day in Hathian’s cracked mirror, and the city’s shadows grew deeper. Word on the streets whispers of a savage beating outside the strip mall—a man left broken, blood painting the pavement red, while a scream-masked phantom slipped into the night, leaving questions and suspicion tangled with bruised loyalties. Then, flames flickered dangerously close to Bourbon, where an arsonist’s signature was inked in scorched wood and kindling; a marshmallow-roasting civilian caught between curiosity and suspicion, watching the fire burn as whispers tied this blaze to a motel still smoldering in memory. And beneath the flashing lights and bitter smoke, a desperate silhouette brandished a crowbar, defending kin with raw fury—another fractured soul pushing back against a city that never forgives. The game’s changed; trust is a currency no one’s spending.
