A cavernous transit hub where the smell of grease and damp concrete hangs heavy. Flickering fluorescent lights illuminate rusted tracks and abandoned kiosks. You can hear the distant hum of a train that never arrives and the chatter of transients hiding in the shadows.

A neon sanctuary filled with the electronic chirps of vintage cabinets. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and stale soda. Gamers and low-level scouts loiter near the machines, their faces bathed in the glow of pixelated screens.

A decaying waterfront where the ocean air is masked by the stench of industrial waste. Heavy metal shipping containers are stacked like monoliths, and the sound of lapping water is punctuated by the groans of old cranes.

A high-end rooftop club overlooking the city's neon sprawl. Thumping bass vibrates through the glass floor, and the elite rub shoulders with the dangerous. Security is tight, and the view of the city is as cold as the drinks.

A sweat-soaked basement gym where the sound of heavy bags being struck echoes constantly. It’s a place for those who have nothing left to lose but their teeth. The lighting is harsh, and the rings are stained with the history of many fights.

The abandoned remnant of the city's law enforcement. Shattered windows and overgrown weeds mark the building where Axe once served. It’s a hollow shell, but it still holds files and secrets that the gangs want buried.

A gaudy, neon-lit casino that serves as the headquarters for the city's most ruthless gang. The sound of slot machines is a constant backdrop to the hushed conversations of enforcers and high-rollers.

Once the heart of the city, now a rain-soaked battleground for territory. A massive, cracked statue of the city's founder stands in the center, surrounded by flickering holo-billboards and the debris of frequent riots.