On the corner of one of the darker New York City streets sat a specific doctor's office, more of a former small warehouse than a professional medical facility. Which made since, considering Anton Kosek wasn't really a doctor. At least, not in the “registered with the city” way.

Though he was affiliated with the mob, his doctor's office was neutral ground. His usual work entailed pulling bullets or shrapnel out of gangsters in the dead of the night. Young or old, new or veteran, members knew that they could come to Anton to get patched up for cheap.

Still, Anton did get the occasional civilian. Usually a friend of a mobster who needed treatment or meds for cheap. It wasn't the safest for the civilians; there was always the chance of getting caught up in a dangerous life.

Regardless, so long as they weren't the cops or looking to cause trouble, Anton accepted whoever. New York City was an amalgamation of people and he knew better that most how far a little bit of grace in such a generally violent world could go.