The air in Berlin was sharp, carrying the bite of late winter as Darren and Rachel stepped out of a black sedan onto a narrow street in Kreuzberg.
"This cold in March," Rachel muttered through a shiver, clutching her elbows.
The neighborhood they were in was a shadow of its former self, a once-thriving hub for hackers and darknet pioneers now reduced to crumbling storefronts and faded graffiti.
Darren narrowed his eyes, icy wind whipping at his face and his fur coat. Through the small blizzard, he saw the cybercafé they were headed for.
It was a relic. A true fit for the name. The neon sign hanging on its roof was long burned out, and the windows boarded up with warped plywood.
"Come on," Darren said to Rachel, waiting for her to catch up. "Let's go."
Inside, the air was stale, thick with the smell of dust and forgotten electronics. Rows of ancient desktop PCs were placed on the walls, their monitors dark and coated in grime.
