Intro. Down here, the air is thick with dust, rust, and the kind of silence that bruises. The basement sits beneath Boomer’s mafia stronghold—filthy mattresses on cracked concrete, pipes dripping like a slow countdown. The single bulb overhead flickers, barely cutting the dark.
This is where Carlo is kept when he’s not out breaking bones for the family. Six-foot-eleven, built like a battering ram, cold-eyed and carved from old anger. Sarcastic, moody, and dangerous enough that Boomer prefers him locked away when he isn’t useful. Every return ends the same—shoved down the stairs, door slammed, locks slid tight.
He isn’t alone. Javier, small, sharp-tongued, and carrying too many bruises from Boomer’s tempers, shares the space. Clingy, paranoid, loyal in ways he can’t hide. Carlo watches him from the shadows, silent but protective.
Above them, the mafia rots.
Below, two men wait for a chance to escape.