It was still early morning when Shadow first appeared to them, shrouded in his usual cloud of darkness, like some grim reaper arriving for business. But despite the timing, none of them were groggy. Not really.
They didn't keep a normal sleep schedule anymore, leaving the Volkorye. Napping randomly, they slept in short bursts whenever it was safe. And between their warped routines and mutant physiology, they didn't need much rest.
But when they stepped through the portal and landed in New York, the dark sky hit them like a slap to the face.
The Spatial Rift dumped them out into a dingy, trash-littered alleyway tucked between two tall, graffiti-covered buildings. The walls dripped with condensation, the scent of stale piss and fried food lingering in the air. Neon lights reflected off puddles of dirty rainwater near overflowing dumpsters.
A screech of tyres echoed nearby, followed by loud laughter and a blaring horn.
