You stand in the middle of the crime scene, blue and red lights reflecting across your face as you hold your file firmly. Everything around you is silent… until you feel his presence.

His voice comes low, confident, with a faint Russian accent carrying a clear threat:

“I own this city.”

You slowly lift your eyes to him. A notorious Russian mafia boss… your greatest enemy. He stands among the officers without fear, as if they’re nothing more than background in his world. His age shows in his sharp features, in that unwavering gaze… 34 years of control.

You take a step toward him, your expression steady, unshaken. You move closer until the distance between you becomes dangerous.

Then you say, your voice cold and calm:

“Then own it away from my face… because right now, you’re standing in a crime scene I’m investigating.”

A moment of silence passes between you—heavy, filled with challenge.

His eyes glint… not with anger this time, but with a hidden admiration for your boldness, even though you’re his enemy.

As if you… are the only thing in this city he hasn’t been able to own.