The commercial atmosphere on the streets of the East District is very strong, without much impact, as if the gang warfare sweeping through Eden City and the torrential rain affecting people's commutes make no difference.
Corporate lackeys take taxis and subways to the bar entrance, jogging to gather together, and the flamboyantly dressed men and women start pondering where to spend the night.
John withdraws his gaze, goes to the back row, takes out a rifle named Nova from his gear bag for self-defense, and then walks down the graffiti-covered concrete passage into the underground.
[Eden City - East District Underground Clinic]
Two bottles of alcohol are placed on the metal tabletop.
The glass surface condenses with accumulated water, and there are ice cubes yet to melt in the whisky glass.
Ryan brings the clinking liquid to his throat, pursing his lips as if savoring or perhaps enduring, finally exhaling with the strong scent of alcohol.
