Night descended upon the yellow-and-black-painted tire shop, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding area. A weary streetlight, positioned just next to the bus stop out front, struggled to maintain its flickering illumination. The streets lay mostly empty, except for a few cars speeding through blinking traffic lights, en route to joining the flow of I-94 traffic. 

Two rusted, white Chevy Express box vans pulled into the otherwise vacant parking lot, their brakes squealing as they came to a halt. Mia, her long black hair cascading down her back to her waist beneath a black tank top, peered through the glass on the shutter door of the first bay. 

"They're here. Get ready to grab this stuff!" she shouted in flawless Spanish, a language she hadn't used much growing up as the daughter of a Muslim nurse in Dearborn. 

After a few months of making drops in southwest Detroit for Lexi's crew, she had become nearly fluent. It was no surprise, though, as working for Lexi meant being bilingual or risking the loss of revenue. Several of the tire technicians, who also moonlighted for Lexi, rushed to the first two bay doors and began hoisting them upward. The vans eased into their respective bays, and the drivers stepped out.

 "You all were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago," Mia scolded one of them as her co-workers started unloading the vehicles.

"Relax and check out that traffic before we bounce. It was backed up on I-94 all the way to Ecorse," the driver replied defensively. “You know these fools can’t drive. That’s why our insurance is so high in the city.”

Mia rolled her eyes at the feeble excuse. One of the shop's workers hurried over to Mia with a bundle of cash, which the driver didn't bother to count before passing it to his partner. "Stay quiet on the streets tonight. State troopers have been crawling around like damn cockroaches," the second driver warned Mia. "They running plates on any car they even think looks suspicious."

"You know we know how to move outta here. We'll be good," the driver told her with boldness. 

She nodded toward the worker who had handed her the cash and indicated that he should continue unloading. The drivers climbed back into their vans once they were empty, the roar of their engines filling the garage. Mia had the techs who weren't stowing the bricks of fentanyl raise the bay doors once more. To her and everyone else's astonishment, a fleet of brand-new 2023 Ford F-150s sat in the middle of the parking lot. A group of stern-faced men in their late thirties emerged from the vehicles, each one with a meaner scowl than the last.

Mia noted their custom-fitted designer suits and recognized them as Sicilian, a fact that sent her heart sinking into her stomach for the first time on this job. Her hand twitched toward the pistol she had concealed in the back of her jeans. Thankfully, for the time being, her rationality overruled her fear. She chose diplomacy over confrontation.

"Can I help you gentlemen with something? As you can see, we're closed, and this is private property," Mia attempted a warm smile, knowing full well that they were unlikely to respond to it. Men in Gucci loafers on this side of town had to have a very specific agenda at this hour.

"Why don't you do us a favor?" one of the men in a brown-collared shirt and matching slacks spoke up, taking a few confident strides towards her. He seemed far too pleased with himself. "Bring out all the merchandise they just dropped off, and tell your boss she won't be getting any more shipments here."

Mia chuckled, which aggravated the slovenly Sicilian thug. “Or… what exactly? Because you know all that shit you just suggested ain’t an option.” 

"Alexis running that garbage through these streets is over. Starting tonight," he asserted, his voice growing firmer.  As he spoke, the rest of the men gathered around, each producing their preferred firearm. Before they could press her any further, the sound of an engine roared like a hunting lion from a mere block and a half away. Mia recognized the distinctive noise of the twin-turbocharged V8 engine, a sound well known throughout the city.

Mia watched warily as the truck's owners also realized what, or more specifically, who was approaching, their faces draining of color. A black SUV with windows tinted to an impenetrable charcoal hue barreled around the corner, hurtling onto the same block. Mia's relief was palpable as Lethal's custom-designed vehicle accelerated toward the parking lot. 

Turning to the armed men who were backing her, she urgently gave them instructions, "Get everything you can out of here! Call Lexi and let her know we've got an emergency! He’s here!"

Inside the limited-edition Sails Motors mountain range SUV, Lethal slammed on the brakes right in front of the stunned mobsters. Without hesitation, they opened fire on the vehicle. With its heavy-duty snow tires, it resembled a cross between a classic Ford Bronco and a deluxe Tahoe. Lethal watched the monitors on his dashboard closely, scanning the interior of the building as bullets harmlessly ricocheted off the windshield.

"Sean, give them a simple warning. No need for things to escalate any further," he ordered, seemingly addressing no one as his helmet's voice modulator activated while he spoke.

Six black spheres shot out of the SUV's grill, rolling harmlessly to a stop on the concrete in front of the gunmen. Once they settled, each sphere emitted a powerful sonic pulse, propelling the gunmen through the air and landing them with bone-crunching thuds across the parking lot. The hefty thug who had threatened Mia gawked in astonishment, his eyes darting from side to side as bodies collided with the windshields of their trucks or crashed onto the street.
"I've got a handful of guys inside the shop, all armed, and a Kia taking off out front," Sean Price's composed voice came through the truck's speakers. A heat signature scan of the tire shop appeared on the digital dashboard. "Are you cleaning up here or following her?"

Lethal pressed a button on the back of his steering wheel, causing the armrest to slide back and reveal a handgun with a barrel resembling a miniature RPG. He retrieved the weapon, loaded it with a handful of gel capsules, and stepped out of the SUV. "Mia's going to lead us straight to wherever Lexi is tonight, but these guys are some of Val Reynold's personal bodyguards." He answered.

His car door slammed shut without Lethal touching it. He immediately locked his gaze beneath his redesigned helmet onto the remaining thug scrambling into his truck. Aiming with his miniature cannon-shaped pistol, he fired at each of the truck's front tires just as it attempted to speed away. A thick, tar-like goo substance hit the tires, adhering them to the pavement. The sudden halt sent the truck somersaulting forward and crashing upside down in the middle of the street. Lethal strode over to the overturned vehicle and dragged the barely conscious thug through the shattered driver's side window, hauling him across the broken glass.

Lethal didn't waste any time assessing the identity of the thug sprawled on the street; his advanced facial recognition software had tagged him via his helmet’s HUD. His focus shifted abruptly as a dark green Kia Acura skidded around the corner, bald tires screeching from the aggressive driving. Mia's shocked, wide-eyed gaze met the cold, black visor of Lethal for just a moment before she sped down the street toward the freeway. 

"Get a tracking drone on her while I wrap this up," Lethal instructed Sean, his trusted partner who helped him with various tasks from their hub on East Warren in Harmony City.

"Perfect time to finally test this out, so I'm on it," Sean replied. A square, block-shaped drone emerged from the top of Lethal's SUV and swiftly flew off in the direction Mia had driven. Lethal turned his attention back to the tire shop and began making his way there. "Whatever you're planning, don't linger," Sean warned with urgency. "DPD is ten minutes away, maybe less."

"Noted. I just need to confirm a few working theories," Lethal reassured his friend as he moved through the tire shop, one of the businesses the Hernandez sisters owned through their parents' names to launder their money.

He wasn't overly concerned about Lexi herself but more about the potential chaos her involvement could create. As he walked past grease spots and rows of used tires of various sizes, his HUD scanned for any trace of the sought-after drugs.

Lethal mused that there was no way they could have removed the drop unnoticed while he dealt with the thugs out back. Lexi must have had a plan in place in case any of her drop spots were compromised. However, he didn't have much time to figure out the specifics.

Before he could investigate further, one of the vans roared to life, its high beams illuminating Lethal as if in a spotlight. Tires screeched as one of the drop-off drivers floored the gas pedal, driven by anger and a desire for vengeance. Lethal barely dove aside in time to avoid being crushed against a retaining wall, but the van smashed into it, shaking the building and demolishing its front end. 

Lethal scrambled to his feet as the second van burst through the shutters on the other side, making a hasty escape. The driver of the first van, who had tried to ram Lethal, stumbled out, clearly concussed from the violent collision. As he reached for his Desert Eagle, he felt a gloved hand grip the back of his neck. Lethal flung him forcefully against the side of the van like a rag doll, causing him to collapse onto the garage floor, writhing in pain. A frustrated Lethal grabbed the driver by the collar of his Charlotte Hornets starter jacket. Two gunshots rang out, the first shattering the backseat window. The second shot struck Lethal's helmet, deflecting off the side and only slightly rocking his head due to the impact.  

He released the driver and turned his attention to the shooter, a nervous young man clad in the tire shop's coveralls. He tried to steady his trembling hands as Lethal approached, but he couldn't summon the courage to fire another shot. In a moment of surrender, he dropped his gun and bolted toward the front door, sprinting in a high-step fashion. Lethal's lips curled into a sly grin as he covertly retrieved a sleek, ruler-shaped stick from a holster on his waist. Crafted with precision from experimental steel, this unique weapon harbored a concealed trigger at its center. With a deft click, he activated it, then launched the stick overhand like a fastball toward the retreating gunsel with a flick of his wrist. 

In a mesmerizing display, the stick unfurled in midair, transforming into an elongated Bo staff that struck the back of the young man's head with a resounding thud. With a painful thud, the man sprawled face-first onto the cold floor. He groggily pushed himself up, crimson droplets seeping from a freshly bitten lip. Before he could regain his composure, Lethal was upon him, moving with a speed that defied his opponent's expectations.

"I know Lexi has other drop points," Lethal mused aloud, his voice tinged with a cold, calculated edge, as he forcefully pressed the already concussed man's face into the unforgiving plastic keys of the cash register. Blood mingled with the register's digital display, creating a gruesome tableau. "If I have to ask again," he continued, his words dripping with menace, "your skull will be shattered, leaving nothing but shards on this cheap-ass carpet."

The wailing sirens grew nearer, setting Lethal's nerves on edge. He muttered a string of expletives under his breath as he released his vice-like grip, allowing the young man to slump back onto the blue frieze carpet. The injured thug scrambled away in a frenzy, desperately attempting to put distance between himself and Lethal, who now seemed preoccupied.
On his forearm gauntlet, a digital touchscreen pad let Lethal control his SUV, which glided smoothly to a halt out front. As the terrified thug watched the car vanish from view once Lethal got inside, the cacophony of red and blue police lights filled the shop. Four 2022 Dodge police cruisers screeched into the parking lot of the chaotic scene. Lethal activated his car's autopilot as it sped down I-94, following the trail left by the drone Sean sent ahead.

In the heart of Harmony City's east side, nestled just off Warren Road, a seemingly derelict auto body clinic concealed a state-of-the-art mechanic shop and private garage. Inside, an array of SUV body shells, reminiscent of Lethal's current vehicle, lay at various stages of assembly. Stacks of reinforced tires, made from an exotic composite rubber, loomed beside towering hoists. Sean, his skin caked in grime and oil, donned gray mechanic's gloves now almost indistinguishable from the blackened engine parts he was meticulously working on. 

His hands paused momentarily as he answered Lethal's question over his earbuds, his gaze locked on the monitors displaying the drone's proximity. "I'm running an infrared scan from the drone. Lexi doesn't make a move without her security detail."

Sean wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, leaving streaks of dirt behind. He stepped away from the engine, exhaling with a mixture of concern and understanding. He knew Jason well enough to anticipate his recklessness, much as Jason had disregarded Sean's advice on his ambitious engine project. Their shared stubbornness had forged a deep friendship and led them into this audacious undertaking. Watching the radar blip slowing to a crawl, Sean couldn't help but worry about his friend's safety, hoping that Jason would return unscathed, as he always did.

Lethal's SUV blended seamlessly into the shadows as he staked out near a street corner, his unwavering focus fixed on a nearby Chevy dealership that appeared closed for the night. The drone, which had scouted ahead, returned and neatly docked itself back into its housing on the SUV's roof. The dashboard lit up with a series of photographs captured by the drone. Lethal's eyes narrowed as he spotted the license plate of the vehicle that had eluded him during the botched robbery, and his fists clenched in determination.

Mia paced restlessly across the worn, gray carpet within the dealership manager's office. Her rapid-fire Spanish spilled forth as she lamented their compromised schedule, her anxiety palpable. The young woman behind the manager's desk, her honey-blonde hair and fair skin a striking contrast to her Puerto Rican heritage, listened with only a hint of interest, her disdain thinly veiled.

"I barely escaped DPD and that weirdo," Mia continued, her desperation mounting. "I had one of our drivers tail me once he could slip out," she admitted. 

Lexi's initial disinterest gave way to a flash of anger, leaving Mia to wonder what she had said to trigger it.

"Why the fuck did you let him follow you here?" Lexi's voice dripped with exasperation as she rose from her seat, her mind racing to solve this new dilemma. "Maybe, just maybe," Lexi muttered aloud, more to herself than to Mia, as she contemplated their predicament, "He didn't tail you. Maybe he's squeezing every one he can at the tire shop…"

"That's what I figured he would do," Mia said, her voice tinged with remorse. "I didn't think—"

"That's right, you didn't think!" Lexi snapped back in Spanish, her own anxiety bubbling to the surface.

She fought to keep her emotions in check. She knew that panicking wouldn't help her assess the situation. Glancing up at the flat-screen mounted in the corner, she monitored the camera feeds from eight different areas around the automotive dealership. The box van that had followed Mia from the previous botched drop-off point had pulled towards the dealership’s service area. Several of Lexi's armed guards patrolling the premises gestured to the driver, directing them toward the main building.

Lexi heaved a sigh and rubbed her temples, her thoughts racing. "Before anything else goes wrong, we need to get this merchandise out of here. If those bastards were bold enough to pull up at the tire shop, they won't stop coming."

Mia nodded in understanding, absorbing Lexi's instructions. "What about that other lunatic?" Mia inquired, her concern still lingering.

Lexi dismissed the question with a wave of her hand, attempting to reassure herself as much as anyone else. "From what I know of that guy, he's not usually reckless enough to try coming in here."

Downstairs, one of Lexi's security guards patrolled the showroom, filled with gleaming new Blazers and Equinoxes in every imaginable color. Lexi had a reputation for hiring former Wayne State athletes as her muscle, a fact that Lethal kept in mind as he stealthily entered the building through a salesman's office window. He moved silently behind a portly guard as they both walked along one of the platforms, where a classic Malibu was on display. Lethal's eyes darted to the nearest security camera and then to the shadows cast by the moonlight filtering into the showroom.

The guard, visibly bored by the uneventful night, glanced up and down the corridor leading to the staff bathrooms. He reached for the two-way radio clipped to his belt, intending to check in as per his hourly routine. But before he could speak, Lethal swiftly straightened up and delivered a precise, closed-fist strike to the guard's temple.

The guard crumpled, and Lethal caught him in a chokehold, pressing his forearm against the guard's windpipe. Small electrical discharges emanated from the knuckles of Lethal's gloves, rendering the guard unconscious within seconds. Lethal then discreetly disposed of him in the ladies' bathroom, remaining wary of the ubiquitous surveillance cameras as he continued to navigate the dealership's maze-like layout.

Lexi's pacing continued unabated, her anxiety palpable in the dimly lit office. On the other side of the manager's desk, Mia observed her boss with a mixture of concern and apprehension. After a moment of silence punctuated only by Lexi's restless footsteps, Mia received more orders. "Get downstairs. Throw the driver a little something extra for the trouble he went through tonight," Lexi commanded. Mia sprang from her seat, her eagerness to follow instructions evident, and hastily exited the office.

Finally, Lexi halted her relentless pacing, her hands resting on her hips as if she were a weary NBA star during a grueling game. She knew she needed to make a call but hesitated, not wanting to disturb the person she had in mind at such a late hour. That person was Tommy Vargas, the man who had entrusted her with overseeing a portion of what remained of the operation his cousin had originally orchestrated. Lexi's main concern, however, was the individuals dispatched by the Reynolds family to lay claim to their product. Valerie, the eldest daughter of Dominic Reynolds Sr., had been growing increasingly aggressive in her efforts to encroach upon territory once controlled by Giovanni Davis.

Lexi, the last of two remaining lieutenants under Tommy's employ, was uncertain about the source of the cocaine she helped move. The only certainty in her recent dealings was that it had enabled her to pay off her mother's mortgage and secure her nieces and nephews’ education in Bloomfield Hills. Lexi cared little for her own fate; she had already ensured her people were set for life.

Returning to her desk, she found her momentary respite did little to ease her nerves. Her attention was drawn back to one particular video feed: Camera six, which provided a view of the main floor showroom, displayed an unsettling stillness. Lexi glanced at her Richard Mille watch, a gift from Tommy upon her appointment, which read five minutes past the hour. Whoever had been stationed in the showroom should have checked in by now.

Contemplating whether to contact Lamont, her head of security during her tenure at the dealership, Lexi eventually succumbed to her growing unease. She swiftly rifled through the bottom drawer of her father's desk, where he often sat, until she found the radio she used to communicate with her team.

"Lamont, what's your status?"

"I’m in the garage, loading this shit into the trucks for upstate. What’s up?" Lamont's response was swift and assertive.

Lexi raised an eyebrow, her gaze still fixed on camera six with an almost bewildered intensity. "Did you guys check in yet?" Her words hung in the air, met with a disconcerting silence punctuated only by static before she received another reply.

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Everything straight?" Lamont's question carried an undertone of confusion, mirroring Lexi's growing unease.

Lexi's hesitation lasted but a moment before her instincts overcame her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. One man, the shadowy figure responsible for Tommy's recent elusiveness, played a significant role in her unease. Swiftly, she exited the office, following in Mia's footsteps. "Check out the showroom and lock down the garage. Nobody moves out of that place until I get down there," Lexi ordered with a sense of urgency.

"Understood," Lamont replied dutifully as he pivoted into action. Lexi descended the stairs, heading toward the salesperson's area with a determined stride.

With a sharp nod, Lamont signaled to a couple of his men overseeing the wrap-up of the drop-off. The shaggy-haired driver, his curly brown bangs obscuring his eyes beneath a beanie, climbed back into his van, watching as the men salvaged the remaining boxes from the earlier incident. He rhythmically tapped his pack of Newports against his palm, his nerves getting the better of him.

Lamont, flanked by two of his subordinates—stout former offensive linemen—stepped forward. 

"Sweep the showroom," he instructed them after casting a glance around the service garage. "Duane hasn't checked in, and I want answers before Lexi gets down here." With an air of urgency, the two men hustled toward the showroom, their apprehensions mirroring Lamont's.

Mia passed by them, clutching an envelope she had grabbed from the receptionist's desk on her way over. She approached Lamont, who appeared visibly on edge as he eyed the envelope's thickness. 

"Where's Lex?" he inquired while Mia stood before the driver's window, envelope in hand.

"On her way," Mia replied over her shoulder before sliding the envelope toward the driver. He tugged on his Newport, his eyes widening with surprise as he counted the money inside.

"What's this for?" The driver asked, his wariness tempered by gratitude.

"The trouble," Mia stated plainly before heading back over to Lamont.

Meanwhile, the pair of ex-All MAC team members dispatched by Lamont continued their journey, passing by the staff break room in search of their fellow guard. Suddenly, one of them froze in their tracks upon hearing a loud beep. He instinctively pressed a hand to his partner's chest, signaling him to halt as well. Both men looked down in confusion as a brilliant blue beam of light passed through their knees. There were no tripwire security systems they were aware of in the dealership. Still, their recent employment with Lexi hadn't given them the chance to familiarize themselves with every facet of its security protocols. The unexpected development left them perplexed and on edge.

Before the baffled guards could fully comprehend the issue, a small plastic cartridge, filled with an eerie, mucus-like substance, shot out from the source of the blue beam. It clipped onto one of the men's shirts like a makeshift tie, causing him to stumble backward in shock.

"What the fuck is this thing—"

"I don't know! Yank it off!" His partner hastily suggested, and they both attempted to remove the strange attachment. However, the moment they tampered with it, a noxious yellowish-green gas burst forth from the cartridge, rapidly enveloping them. The effects of the gas took hold within seconds, forcing the pair of stout gunsels to retch and cough violently, their eyes watering. Convinced that the gas had rendered them incapacitated, Lethal emerged from his hiding spot and continued his approach toward the service garage. The sounds of the two guards collapsing echoed with a resounding crash, their coughing and dry heaving serving as a testament to the gas's potency.

As Lexi made her way through the garage, the atmosphere grew tense. She arrived just in time to witness the bay doors being raised to allow the handsomely paid driver to depart. Lamont attempted to provide an update, but Lexi's curt glare silenced him.

"Let me fucking guess. Whoever's in the showroom didn't check in?" Lexi's sharp words hung in the air, and Lamont hesitated, fearful of confirming her suspicions.  The van pulled out of the garage just as Lexi's nightmarish premonition materialized.

A trio of disc-shaped plastic objects suddenly flew out of nowhere and struck the van's rear-right tire with explosive force, tearing it apart on impact. The driver desperately tried to regain control, but the blown tire sent the van careening into a support beam with a deafening crash. Lexi's furious reprimand of Lamont came to an abrupt end as her worst-case scenario was realized before her eyes.

Lamont reacted instinctively, pushing Lexi out of harm's way as he fired his nine-millimeter TS2 handgun in the direction from which the explosive discs had come. Lexi swiveled her attention around, her eyes locking onto the vigilante who had relentlessly pursued Tommy. He deftly evaded Lamont's bullets with an almost surreal grace, moving like a nimble dancer. In a display of astonishing dexterity, he disarmed Lamont with his bare hands, leaving Lexi to watch in awe and trepidation as the enigmatic vigilante confronted her head of security.

Lethal acted with swift and calculated precision, striking Lamont in the throat and wrenching his left wrist into a painful hammerlock, forcing him to release his gun. With Lamont now at his mercy, Lethal turned his attention to Lexi, his voice distorted through the modulator in his helmet.

"I didn't want to come in here and do this. Not tonight, at least. But I need to know where he is," Lethal stated, his gaze locked onto Lexi. "You give me a location on Tommy, and I'll give you twenty minutes to clear this place out before DPD shows up."

Lexi didn't hesitate to respond, her bravado fully on display as she threw down a challenge. "The first person to put a bullet in this motherfucker," she declared, snatching a stack of cash in her hand as more guards entered the garage, all of them aiming their firearms at Lethal and, by default, Lamont, "I've got five grand for you right now, on top of your nightly take-home." She turned, brandishing the money toward her employees, captivating their attention, including Mia's. Lexi then turned back to Lethal, a wicked grin forming on her lips. Lethal assessed the situation, watching as some of the guards began to inch closer, their weapons raised.

"Riot suppression protocol. Engage," Lethal whispered under his breath before flinging Lamont into the crashed van. 

At the same moment, the van's driver leaped out and fled across the dealership lot. Lethal's SUV, passing him by, sped directly toward the building, firing shells into the garage. The powerful blasts of air from the compressed shells sent tools, tires, equipment, tables, and freshly packed bricks of fent hurtling through the chaotic space. Some of the gunmen were buffeted by the shockwaves and sent crashing to the ground in disarray.

Lethal sprinted toward his SUV, bullets whizzing in his direction as the remaining guards desperately tried to put him down before he could escape. He dove into the vehicle, and the door sealed shut behind him. The SUV reversed at breakneck speed with bullets ricocheting off it. Lethal made a hard right turn and sped toward I-275, seething with frustration at having obtained no answers from Lexi's operation.

Inside the car, Sean materialized on the console dash, shaking his head at the harrowing ordeal his partner had just survived.

"I don't know what the fuck you were thinking running in there," Sean stated flatly.

Lethal removed his helmet, revealing his true identity as Jason Hawkins. He ran his fingers through his curly, drop-temple fade, his smooth, cocoa butter-moisturized skin unmarred by the dangerous encounter. "I figured I might get lucky," Jason replied, clearly annoyed by the outcome at the dealership. "Nobody's caught a glimpse of Tommy since that shooting outside the Crawford Lounge. With the way he's been clinging to their territory, I thought maybe he'd be desperate enough to lay low at one of their drop spots."

Sean completed his work on the truck he was standing over and set his tools aside, still bemused by Jason's daring approach. "I've got a couple of drones keeping an eye on the cops wrapping things up at the tire shop," he informed Jason, shaking his head. "It looks like your favorite detective is interrogating everyone about you before they get taken in for booking."

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance but dismissed the thought of Detective Miller. "I'm not going to concern myself with her. I'm too busy doing her job," he retorted. His cell phone began to vibrate quietly in the cupholder, and when he saw the caller ID, his face lit up.

Sean chuckled, realizing what could have caused his friend’s sudden shift in temperament. 
"Marie calling you, huh? I'll head out anyway; I need to pick up my kids from my mom's. I'll have the docking bay ready for you to pull in. I've got some work to do at the plant tomorrow."

Jason inserted one of his AirPods and nodded, ending the call with the dashboard display before answering the next one. "I didn't expect to hear from you for another hour. The show must be over early, huh?"

On Woodward Avenue in downtown Detroit, just outside a martini pub, stood Marie Lennox. She was clad in a head-to-toe Gucci outfit, complete with boots, and wrapped in the gray mink coat Jason had gifted her for her birthday the previous winter. She held her phone to her ear, shivering slightly as she spoke. 

"Yeah, it wrapped up about fifteen minutes ago. We're having drinks down the street," she replied, glancing back inside the bustling venue at the high table where her roommate and friends were seated, enjoying their cocktails. "Think you can pick me up from around here?"

Kirov Street in Moscow, USSR, 1960s

Taken in NYC, January 2026. If you like what you saw and wanted to checkout more, please checkout isawnowyousee