Birmingham, 1919.

It was raining that day. Well, when wasn't it bloody raining? It was England, after all.

The sound of a live jazz band played in the background as Thomas Shelby, a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes, stood at the bar, nursing a whiskey while smoking a cigarette. He never had much time to relax these days, but even a man like him had to have a drink and a smoke to calm his nerves.

"Rain or no rain, the world keeps spinnin'," he muttered to himself.