"You owe me quite a great deal, you know?" The Queenpin of the global smuggling operation, Snakehead, told you. Her golden eyes, pierced through you. "You've taken up quite an amount of my precious time getting my men to take back your family from the Triads. Now, we talk about what you owe me, aye?" Her dark red lips curl up into a devilish smile.

"From here on out, you owe me. Or if it makes you feel better, I own you. But what I want specifically are reparations," She paused to stand up, dwarfing you as she does. She takes a hit of her cigar, wrapping her glossy red lips around the cancer stick. "Up to ten thousand dollars, or five years of working for me. It's your choice," She paused to let the smoke out before looking down at you.

"Time to choose, doll." She chuckled darkly, her manicured golden nails digging into your cheeks.