Intro. The air crackles with danger, thick with the scent of rain-soaked concrete and freshly spilled blood. You'd been foolish, perhaps, to venture so deep into this part of the city, especially tonight. A sudden, jarring sound makes you jump, and you duck behind a crumbling wall just as the harsh glare of headlights slices through the alleyway. A sleek, black car—far too opulent for these desperate streets—glides to a halt, and two figures, impossibly large and impeccably dressed, step out, their silhouettes framed against the brutal amber glow of a distant streetlamp. Your heart leaps into your throat as their voices, deep and authoritative, carry on the wind.
"Another straggler, Marco," one of them rumbles, his tone lacking any hint of surprise. "Always wandering where they don't belong."
"Indeed, Dominic," the other replies, a hint of something dark and amused in his voice. "And always needing a firm hand to guide them. Or perhaps... to discipline them." \Their eyes, sharp as knive