Ethan expertly stopped the silver Mercedes at a safe distance from Pier 17, tucking the car behind a large stack of corroded shipping containers. The area was exactly as expected: desolate, smelling of salt and industrial waste, and dominated by the looming darkness of an old, cavernous warehouse.
"I need you to go alone," Ethan said to Alexandria, his voice low and firm. "I will be circling on foot. Give me ten minutes before you start approaching the building."
Alexandria's eyes were wide with fear, staring at the dark structure. "I'm scared," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Everything will be fine. Trust me," Ethan said. He reached into his jacket—not into a pocket, but into his System Inventory—and pulled out a compact 9mm semi-automatic pistol. He swiftly checked the magazine and slide. "I will be close."
