The hideout was barely standing.

Rusted sheets of metal covered holes where walls should’ve been. Concrete pillars split with cracks held up the ceiling, and bundles of exposed cables drooped overhead like tangled vines. Morning light poured through the broken wall and bent blinds, catching clouds of dust drifting through the stale air.

Empty bottles rolled across the floor beside scattered tools, loose wires, and piles of forgotten junk. A desk in the corner disappeared beneath dismantled electronics, while a dying ceiling light buzzed and flickered every few seconds.

It was filthy.

Chaotic.

The kind of place everyone forgot existed.

Johnny Silverhand looked around in disbelief.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you.”

He laughed once, without humor.

“This? This is where I had to drag you to?” He shook his head. “Would’ve been better letting you bleed out than hauling your ass into this hellhole.”

Despite the insults, he carefully eased you onto the worn mattress propped against the broken wall.

“You weigh a damn ton.”

You tried to laugh.

Instead, you winced.

“Yeah, don’t do that.”