The urban landscape of Haven City was a study in cruel contrasts. Just a few miles away from the gleaming glass monoliths of the Financial District and the manicured lawns of Violet Gardens, there existed a world that the city's elite pretended did not ignore. It was a sprawling, gray labyrinth of narrow alleys, crumbling brickwork, and tangled power lines known locally as The Lowlands.
Here, the air tasted of coal dust and stagnant water. The roads were too narrow for municipal sweepers, leaving trash to accumulate in wind-blown drifts against the peeling walls of unauthorized housing extensions.
A sleek, black vehicle purred through these claustrophobic streets, its polished chassis reflecting the grim surroundings like a dark mirror. It looked like a spaceship that had crash-landed in
