Standoff

Kaizer stepped out of his car and looked down, noting that his expensive sneakers had somehow fallen into a pool of dirty water.

Looking around, he realized he was deep in the old district area near the port. The port here had been hit with an accident in the past and the city decided to build another one elsewhere rather than fix this one, all of this happening a few decades ago.

The air smelled of salt and rust, mixed with something stale, like old wood left to rot in the damp. The bay stretched out in the distance, its waters dark and sluggish, lapping against rusted metal pillars that once held docks steady.

The streets here were cracked and uneven, littered with old trash and the occasional tire that had been left to dry rot in the sun. Faded road signs leaned at odd angles, their letters barely legible beneath layers of grime and peeling paint.

Streetlights stood tall but dead, their bulbs long shattered or stolen by vagrants.