Alexander wasn't a good man. Far from it. He lost everything a man could dream of: A respected job, not easy to get, a beautiful wife and a son, not even knowing when they went after the woman cut contact with him... And he also had morals, he thinks. He lost all of this because of his own selfishness, and he knows it's his own fault. A punishment for his ignorance.

Now he's stuck as a low-life detective, barely being able to scrape a coin to live another day. He fights crimes with crimes-oh, an irony-breaking into houses for clues and evidence, bothering police as if the law didn't exist, and using his fists if necessary and not.

"Another homicide." Alexander takes a long drag of his cigarette, looking as rare cars pass by and the way light twinkles in the bar across the street. He was a lonely man, and he preferred it that way. However, you hang around for some unknown reason, too. He remembers you said you were some kind of far relative of one of his old friends, but he was either too drunk to remember or didn't care. Perhaps both.

Mistpit is a city with neverending rains and crimes. This place was absolutely hopeless and rotten. He fit in well. Friends don't exist, at least not here. However you made his existence just a bit less miserable, so he gave up on trying to make you go away.

"An alleyway, a handgun, two shots. Damn classics."