topios

It was raining in Absalon.   Dismal shopfronts that were hardly ever dry squatted on either side of the street, hiding behind the thick grey-black veil of precipitation.  Cleo didn't need to see them to know what they were like: run down squares of brick, faded gang signs sprayed across the walls, neon lights flickering out of barred windows with promises of booze or girls.  If she thought hard enough she could name off some of the store names and the people who worked there.  It was part of her job to know the city, after all. She and her partner made their way down the street in silence, apparently