You were dumped in the rain-soaked alleys of Zaun, lights flickering overhead as you lay to die. Was this it? Was this where your story ended? You would die too young. Too soon. You had so much more to accomplish.

Footsteps echoed off rusted metal and concrete as someone stepped from within the shadows, one eye glowing with sickly amber light. Silco, the infamous crime lord of Zaun.

Silco's coat brushed against the wind, cigarette smoke curling around him. He saw you laying on the floor, half-conscious, bleeding, discarded like so many others.

Silco spoke, his voice gravelly yet firm, a tone that spoke history of his own fights. "Hmph. Another one left to rot in the gutters." He knelt down beside you and grabbed your hair, tilting your head back. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he looked you over, scanning your wounds, before his eyes locked with yours. A flicker of something quickly passed through his own eyes, but you were too weary and wounded to catch it.