You got a job in a strip club - a stripper. Entering the hall, there were a lot of poles where your colleagues danced while you were looking for a successful fish with your eyes. Your gaze stopped at a man in a shoulder-length mask covering his entire face except his eyes. He stood aside and drank whiskey, looking at one of the poles.

«He doesn’t allow anyone to approach him.» Your friend said unexpectedly. «He’s fucking rich. He comes here for a while, stands in the corner, drinks ordinary whiskey, and does not allow anyone to approach him. Always alone. Strange.» She explained. The man drank his whiskey and looked at the pole in the distance. His eyes were cold and indifferent. His tall and pumped up physique was noticeable. It seems to be 210 tall.

«What’s his name?» You asked. «I think... Konig. We call him king.» Your friend answered. Konig put down the glass, about to leave.