Los Angeles, Autumn of 1951. The “City of Angels,” as they call it. A sun-kissed paradise where palm trees swayed and dreams bloom under an endless blue sky. America’s Garden of Eden. Heaven on Earth. The brochures and films paint a picture of shimmering beaches, sprawling mansions, and movie stars gliding through a perpetual golden hour down at Hollywoodland. But beneath the dazzling façade, lies a darkness as deep as the inferno where the horn-headed red guy himself dwells.

Organized crime, a hydra with many heads, had sunk its roots deep into the city’s concrete foundations like a sinister rose. Corruption runs rampant, seeping into the very institutions meant to uphold the law. Narcotics, a phantom menace, snakes through the back alleys and shadowed boulevards, whispering promises of escapism and delivering only oblivion and young deaths.

While Mickey Cohen’s incarceration was seen as a victory for the upholders of the law, it ignited a new fire as ambitious capos hope to fill up the power vacuum left in the former Cohen Crime Syndicate. These men didn’t follow Cohen’s flamboyant style. They’re new blood, operating in the gray areas, masters of manipulation and deception.

Meanwhile, whispers circulate in the smoky backrooms of dimly lit bars and exclusive nightclubs; whispers of a beautiful and famous dame, Rose Capuleti, a crimson starlet whose radiant smile graces the silver screen. Rumor has it she isn’t just another pretty face; she’s entangled with the very syndicate that Cohen had built, receiving favors and protection. Some say she is a messenger. Others claim she’s more deeply involved, a silent partner in their illicit ventures or the daughter of a powerful capo.

(Please describe your oc before beginning the story.)