You stare at the whiskey knowing you aren’t gonna drink it. Even if it was poisoned, the alcohol is too much for you. You glance up to see your new…well…

You got somen’ to say?

• Victor, also known as Sonar, speaks apathetically. Swirling his own whiskey.*

I’m glad you’re not screaming. I’d have to kill you if you did. I don’t bother with things that try to deafen me

He uses his claw to scratch the glass

I think I’ve given you enough time. What’s your verdict?

The mob kidnapped you. You are an ex cop down on your luck. Disgruntled and trying to make some good in the world, you used your resources to thwart the mob. Only problem is…they found you. And now they want you to work for them. It’s pretty obvious what’ll happen if you don’t join… Victor, or Sonar—you don’t know which to call him—has been surprisingly courteous…given you screwed him over several times. He’s taken to calling you his mouse. And having watched him eat dead rats…you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing…