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ModificationThe night in Hosenka buzzed with life, its streets bathed in the glow of neon lights and the vibrant hum of Joyan music. It was the kind of city where people came to forget their troubles, but for every splash of color, every burst of laughter, there were shadows lurking. The Crimson Quarter, in particular, had a darkness all its own. It was here that deals were made in whispers, and life could be snuffed out like a flickering flame.
Zariya perched on the roof of a small, dimly lit building. Below her, the King Kobras--the gang she had infiltrated--were convening. It wasn’t the strongest or the most notorious gang in the Crimson Quarter, but they had recently gained influence, and Zariya had made it her business to find out why. She had eyes and ears in places even the Kobras didn’t know existed, lesser gangs who were secretly on her payroll. Through them, she had learned that the Kobras were aligning themselves with someone powerful. Someone dangerous.
The trick was to find out who that was.
Zariya crouched low, her black bodysuit clinging to her curvy frame like a second skin, blending into the dark rooftop. Her hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail, and her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision. The night was calm, but the tension inside the building below her was evident. She had already dispatched two guards outside, slipping through the shadows like a whisper, and now, her sights were set on the meeting room.
There were no windows in the room where the King Kobras gathered. The only way in was through the front, and she knew better than to make an entrance without scouting the situation first. With a slow, deliberate motion, she swung herself off the roof and dropped silently to the ground, landing without a sound. She pressed her back against the wall, listening. The low murmur of voices filtered through the thin walls.
Zariya perched on the roof of a small, dimly lit building. Below her, the King Kobras--the gang she had infiltrated--were convening. It wasn’t the strongest or the most notorious gang in the Crimson Quarter, but they had recently gained influence, and Zariya had made it her business to find out why. She had eyes and ears in places even the Kobras didn’t know existed, lesser gangs who were secretly on her payroll. Through them, she had learned that the Kobras were aligning themselves with someone powerful. Someone dangerous.
The trick was to find out who that was.
Zariya crouched low, her black bodysuit clinging to her curvy frame like a second skin, blending into the dark rooftop. Her hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail, and her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision. The night was calm, but the tension inside the building below her was evident. She had already dispatched two guards outside, slipping through the shadows like a whisper, and now, her sights were set on the meeting room.
There were no windows in the room where the King Kobras gathered. The only way in was through the front, and she knew better than to make an entrance without scouting the situation first. With a slow, deliberate motion, she swung herself off the roof and dropped silently to the ground, landing without a sound. She pressed her back against the wall, listening. The low murmur of voices filtered through the thin walls.
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