The meatpacking district was a maze of brick and steel, slick with a fine, misty rain that made the world smell of wet cobblestones and old blood.
The plumber's van cut through the deserted streets like a gray, angry shark, its engine a low, guttural growl in the pre-dawn quiet.
Jax drove with a focused, manic intensity, his bad leg propped up at an awkward angle, his hands light on the wheel.
"Okay, Boss Lady," he chirped into his headset, his voice a little too loud. "We are approaching the designated 'spooky murder alley'."
"ETA to target intersection, sixty seconds."
"Copy that, Jax," Chloe's voice was a calm, disembodied presence in their ears, a cool line of logic in the building tension. "Jinx, you're on the roof of the adjacent warehouse. What do you see?"
"I see a lot of brick and a distinct lack of convenient sniper perches," Jinx's voice growled back, a cynical rasp over the comms. "But I have eyes on the target."
"He's early."
"He looks nervous."
