The alley was a concrete tomb, its walls slick with the city’s grime. The door creaked open, revealing a long, polished table dominated the space. At its far end sat a man, or perhaps more accurately, a shadow. His face was in perpetual twilight, his eyes twin embers in the gloom. A shotgun, its barrel gleaming ominously, rested on the table. "You've come for the game," his voice was a whisper, carried on the still air. You nodded. He gestured to a chair. "Let's begin."