The rain hasn't stopped since the machines took control. It came with a powerful storm that threatened to wash the very essence of the city, a city I have grown to hate. How and why this rain started I have no idea, no one did, and yet the worst had happened... It was even worse than the dreaded rain itself.


I leaned against the cold brick wall of my house, or rather the house of which I had claimed as mine. I loved it—a small, cramped space with a chair, a stool, an old television that never showed a single image and a view of the city through the window. The best part, I could see my place of interest. It was a small warehouse on the opposite side of the road and just about two blocks away.


The rhythmic patter of rain as it dropped on the roof echoed, resurfacing a memory I have always wanted to forget. I could hear those familiar screams, wails, and loud cries filled with pain. I could see blood splattered on the walls, and men making imprints with it like they were graffiti artists.


My eyes stung, but I blinked, holding back the tears that were about to roll out. I reached for my pocket and I pulled out a stick of cigarette and a lighter. I secured the cigarette in my mouth and flicked the lighter. A spark of flame flickered, lighting up the tip of the cigarette briefly before being snuffed out by the wind that sipped through the window and leaving the tip with a glow of bright orange and small trails of smoke. I sucked in the tobacco flavoured air from the cigarette, took it out and blew out a gust of smoke from my mouth.


"May," I heard a voice call out through my earpiece fixed to my ear.


"Hank," I replied, knowing fully well who it was. He was not a stranger, just a concerned colleague.


"We have been keeping an eye on the target building you asked us to."


My eyes darted down to the warehouse.


"It is clear now."


"Alright. Thanks... But did you say we?"


"Yeah. We. I love to refer to myself in the third person plural while I'm on the job."


I could imagine him making a wide grin after saying that.


I sighed, "Do you have to make things seem weird whenever I work with you?"


Weird was an understatement.


"Come on, May May. We all do some stuff when we work. Like when you take a cigar for every task. You're just the only one making it look weird."


I tapped twice on the earpiece and the call disconnected. I wasn't ready to keep the conversation going at that moment. I tossed the cigarette out the window, walked to the door, pulled it open and stepped out into the hallway. I jogged down the stairs. It was late, some minutes past nine, so I was not bothered about anyone spotting me.


I stepped out into the cold, the rain dripping on my leather jacket as I marched towards the old warehouse. I


The machines that took control weren’t literal. They were the crime lords, the corrupt politicians, the system that had turned a blind eye while the city crumbled in the storm. Each day brought new reports of disappearances, of families torn apart, and of violence erupting in the streets. It was as if the rain itself was a curtain, hiding the city’s darkest secrets.


I once believed in justice, in the law. But after a string of unsolved cases and that one messy event that claimed the life of Greg. He was too close to me for me to let go... So close that I couldn't forget how his blood was used to paint the walls of his apartment. I realized that day that the system was rigged.


I stopped at the entrance of the warehouse, the rumoured hideout of one of the "machines" I was after—Victor "Viper" Morales, the man who controlled the underbelly of New Haven. The flickering neon sign overhead illuminated the entrance, casting eerie shadows that danced in the rain.


I took a deep breath, lowered my hand to the gun holstered to my trouser and then pushed the door open. The creaking sound was swallowed by the relentless rain. Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, filled with the scent of damp wood and something more sinister.


Ten figures sat alone in the shadows, their voices low and conspiratorial. I caught snippets of their conversation—talk of shipments, packages, betrayals, and blood. This was the heart of the running engine and I was determined to shut it down.


“You’re not welcome here, young lady,” a deep voice broke the murmurs in the room. It was Viper, his silhouette rising from amongst the figures. The weight of his presence filled the room with a certain aura that fueled my determination to shut him down even more.


“I'm not here for pleasantries, Viper,” I replied with my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “I want answers.”


He laughed; it was a low, chilling sound that echoed off the walls.


"Answers?" He asked with a frown. He glanced at the other people seated around him.

"I believe you are in the wrong place, miss," he said in a calm tone that I've never heard from any crime lord.


"I know I'm in the right place," I said and kept walking. Lightning flashed across the window, followed by a loud clap of thunder that shook the foundation of the house.


The Viper tilted his head.

"Who are you?"


All eyes flew to me. The rain intensified outside; it was relentless and unforgiving, mirroring the storm brewing within the warehouse. I knew I was on a precipice, the line between justice and vengeance blurring with every second.


"For years, New Haven has been plagued by the evils of manipulative men like you. It has been drenched by the storm of greediness and can't even stand on its feet anymore. I am the force of change that you are soon to hate."


He laughed and clapped.


"Nice intro. But I find it foolish of noyou to walk in here thinking you can change anything. I mean, look around you," he stretched his arms and swerved to his right and left, "Do you see anyone who cares so much about your concerns?"


“Maybe I can’t change everything,” I said, stepping forward, “but I can start with you.”


I reached for my holster and the other men rose to their feet, not in a standing ovation, but to release the heat on me.

The Viper remained fixed, his black eyes, as cold as steel, stared into mine without a single blink.