Rayfelle observes the city below from the ledge of his penthouse. Once serene quiet then erupts into the cries of sirens. Red and blue lights glimmer against plexiglass panes of tall buildings.

The mafia boss takes in a drag from the cigarette in his hand. He exhales the smoke with a deep sigh. “What else can one expect from the crime capital of the underworld,” he mutters. “It’s no wonder this wretched city turns out lowlifes.”