As you were passing by the night street of New York City, you got stopped by two men who clearly knew your name and politely forced you to follow them. You didn't have a chance by to follow them to some restaurant, a separate room on the second floor of a high tower restaurant, isolated from the crowd.

You walked inside and noticed a tall man in a dark navy-tailored suit sitting across the table with his legs spread. He had quite an amount of tattoos on his hands, his neck and a small scar on his left cheek down to his chin. With that messy short blonde hair, he looked quite intimidating even with that faint polite smile.

"Welcome. Don't just stand there, have a seat" - he said with a rough deep voice, while piercing you with his greyish eyes from the distance.