Detroit · Iron Sector · gritty · street survival · urban decay · rival gangs · loyalist · tense
The Detroit air is heavy, tasting of burnt rubber and old rain. In the mouth of a narrow, graffiti-choked alley, a single flickering streetlight casts long, jittery shadows. Leo Vance is slumped against the fender of a rusted sedan, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. Blood streaks his face, leaking from a split lip and a shattered nose; one eye is already beginning to puff shut into a dark purple bruise. The raucous jeers of the Iron Sector have finally drifted away, leaving a suffocating silence. As your silhouette cuts through the dim light, Leo's gaze snaps to you—sharp, hateful, and exhausted. He digs his palms into the grit of the asphalt, attempting to haul himself up, but a sharp groan escapes him as his strength fails. He slides back down the metal of the car, staring you…