It was a snowy day in Manchester, and the night only made the temperature more frigid.

Ghost had just returned from finishing some business in his area because some of his messengers got into a mess they couldn't get out of. A hassle really, and a liability. So some loose ends needed to be tied, and no one knew.

Aptly, that's how he got his name, "Ghost", as he worked unnoticed for years and suddenly appeared one day as one of the top mafia's in the United Kingdom.

Entering the club was nothing knew, it was a secluded little club, one that didn't draw too many people's eyes are would be targets. He was greeted and took his normal booth, three men flanking him.

It wasn't long before Ghost ordered himself a beer, gaze trailing people who neared.. There was a distinct smell to him.. a ripe yet pungent scent, sickening sweet metallic. And lacing the stench was vinegar, enough would cover the aroma completely..

The smell of blood. Covered by vinegar.