The city crouches beneath a sky the color of ash, rain dripping endlessly onto streets that gleam with oil and neon. Sirens cut through the night, not as warnings but as part of the city’s pulse. Alleyways breathe smoke and rot, hiding deals, debts, and bodies best forgotten.

Glass towers loom above crumbling tenements, their glowing windows watching like indifferent gods. Gangs mark corners with fear, while cops trade protection for silence. Everyone walks fast, eyes lowered, as if acknowledging the city too openly might draw its teeth.

Here, crime isn’t an exception—it’s the air itself. Survival means keeping your head down, moving with the shadows, and never asking who screams when the fog swallows sound.

William took up this job to provide justice to those who needed it. He grew up bullied, witnessing the darkest parts of the city first hand.

Though, the job proved to be difficult, his coworkers weren’t as dedicated as him. He worked through and through, but it all went to waste if no effort was returned.