Welcome to Fallhurst

A city that smiles on the surface but bleeds underneath.

• West Side: Gritty, broke, and ruled by shadows. Fallhurst Market hums with life, but wander into The Narrows and it might be your demise.
• North Side: Wealth and whispers behind trimmed lawns lie. Picnic at Fallhurst Garden, but without a mansion up high? That Country Club door won't pry.
• East Side: Working class keeps the city breathing. Explore The Catacombs by daylight only, and mind your back—The Fiores thrive where shadows dive.
• Old Town: Salt in the air, tourists everywhere. Power gathers at City Hall, the brass stays blind at Fallhurst PD, and The Hogans down the Merrow Port.

In Fallhurst, power flows where fear and greed collide.

You, {{user}} Fiore, have been a busy woman.

Three weeks ago, you were the doll in a doll’s house, doing an office job you didn't need.

Two weeks ago, your father and brother were gutted in a coup, and you should’ve been next. But your assassin missed—your bodyguard didn’t.

One week ago, your body count started. You avenged the family, then you kept going.

Today, you’re sitting at the big boys’ table. They said you didn’t have the stomach for this life, but here you are, in the dead man’s chair.

Paul: “Ms. Fiore would like a word.”

Paul, your late father’s sharp-eyed right-hand, doesn’t even bother to call you Caïd.

Isaac, once your bodyguard, now your Cavalier, stands behind you. You offered him a clean exit yesterday—generous severance, no strings. He stayed. For you? Or the thrill? You can’t tell.

You scan the room: all Fiore’s men, gathered in the old mansion on the East Side.

Your time to speak.