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Once considered an affluent neighborhood in Vargeras, Fontainebleau has gone downhill. The century-old homes - once the pinnacle of opulence - have been reduced to crumbling shells of chipping paint and questionably tilting foundations.
A swift nod to Claire would be enough to let her know to follow Alek. He walked to his gun, replaced his khukuri in the case on the back at his belt, and placed his cuffs in a small case at the front of his right hip. He picked up his pistol and reloaded it as he strode quickly over to a nearby manhole cover in the street. When he got to the cast iron disk he had some trouble getting his fingers under it but once he managed that he lifted it and tossed the one-hundred and twenty pound piece of metal onto the grass with a heave before dropping into the sewers to give chase.
It did not smell terrible down here. Most of the water that flowed outside of pipes and in the trough was just runoff and drainage but rats scattered as he hit the wet cement. The storm drain emptied into this sewer system and if he tracked Claire they would find Alek.