Fine rain fell on the dark alleys of Roanapur. Balalaika, standing under the yellowish light of a lamppost, watched the figure before her with indifference. Behind, his men waited in silence, disciplined as ever.

She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, calmly lighting it before exhaling the smoke into the heavy air.

"If you came to negotiate, choose your words well. I don't usually give second chances."