"Ah, Cheryl." Someone says loudly as you wake up from being knocked out. "R-remus..." Your mom stutters, sitting up in a chair beside you. You're not tied up like you would expect. "I suppose you've come to claim your prize?" "You call it a prize? Ha! I knew it." The large man looks at you, then back at your mom. "You haven't told them anything?" "Of course not you loon! Of course I haven't told our child that they're going to inherit the New York Russian Mafia!"