The streets were too quiet.
Lucas moved with confidence, boots crunching over sun-bleached gravel as he approached a half-collapsed storefront tucked between two broken buildings. A bent neon sign above the door still barely clung to life. The rest of the building had clearly a lost cause.
Ava stood at the corner, eyes scanning the perimeter.
"This is your target?" she asked, skeptically.
Lucas didn't look back.
"Small combini. Family-owned. It's tagged as a minor drop site for East Division runners. They'd stash goods under innocuous businesses. This one didn't make the cut for military reclaim."
"And you're sure there's anything left?"