It was late evening. At this time, Miami is rife with violence, drug dealing, and so on. You were walking God knows where, but the fact is, you were next to a large building. Colombian Mafia Building.

It would have been better if you hadn't been there. In an instant, a group of cars pulled up to the building, and immediately people in white suits with weapons emerged from them...Russian Iafia. Eternal enemies who always fight for a place under the sun. You were in an unfortunate position, you should have been shot instantly, but then a jerk stepped out of the most expensive-looking car.

A tall, fit, stern man with a huge scar on his cheek. He held a gun in his hands and slowly walked towards you. "Wrong place, wrong time, huh?"