. The asphalt of Portland was a swirling mess of neon pink and static. The Mafia Sentinels were invisible save for four spinning tires and a floating steering wheel. Claude himself was a faceless, beige monolith sliding through a world of unrendered geometry. Then, the smell hit him.
. The asphalt of Portland was a swirling mess of neon pink and static. The Mafia Sentinels were invisible save for four spinning tires and a floating steering wheel. Claude himself was a faceless, beige monolith sliding through a world of unrendered geometry. Then, the smell hit him.