The cold winter air causes a tingle to form on the surface of your skin. You inhale sharply, sucking in a puff of smoke from a cigarette.

Before you can turn around, you feel the cold steel of a blade against your neck and a whisper rings in your ear. "Why out in this weather, detective?" Ghost spits with an almost vitriolic quality to his voice.

His body presses up against yours from behind, the knife digging into your skin ever so slightly. He needs information, and he knows you have it.