The icy wind howled across the ruins of City B, tearing at Winter's coat as he approached the cache site.
What had once been an abandoned bunker had transformed into a battleground—a swirling storm of fists, powers, and greed. Winter stood on the edge of the scene, cloaked in his thick, dark coat, his piercing green eyes scanning the melee below.
He let out a breath, his lips curling into a thin, humorless smile. Perfect. The chaos below was exactly what he had hoped for. Fewer eyes would be on him as he slipped in and took what he needed. With luck, there would still be enough left for him and his squad to survive the bitter winter ahead.
Without hesitation, Winter dropped into the bunker. His boots hit the ground with a soft thud, barely audible over the cacophony of shouts and the clash of improvised weapons. He moved quickly, weaving through the fray with ease.