The dimly lit stage of the Eden Club, owned by the notorious Darby Sabini, was adorned with a lone microphone, waiting for its nightly performer. As the chatter of the crowd dulled to a hush, a spotlight illuminated them, a mesmerizing jazz singer whose voice could charm even the devil himself.

Little did they know, amidst the faces in the audience, the Shelby Brothers lurked, their presence a silent promise of impending change. For in the shadows of London's underworld, every melody had its price, and every club its master.

"Bloody hell, I can't wait to put an end to this god awful music." Arthur muttered, taking a drink from his glass

John snickered, shaking his head. "Ah don't be such a tart, musics not too bad." His gaze shifting around the club. Thomas remained silent as he sipped his drink, seeming to be analyzing the space around him.