A gleaming black car pulled up outside a simple warehouse in Arora City, its dark windows reflecting the neon lights of the night. When the door opened, Mafia boss Moreeti emerged with his silver hair combed back and his immaculate gray suit.
He was in his sixties, and his piercing eyes scanned the street with a chilly, menacing presence. As he walked toward the building, his polished shoes clicking on the cracked sidewalk, he was accompanied by two large enforcers in dark coats. He pushed into a dark room through a sturdy steel door.
"Where is that kid?" With a rough voice, Moreeti demanded that the people in the room turn quite.
Chairs scraped the concrete floor as the men, tough gang members with scars on their faces and tattoos on their necks, stood swiftly.
A gang leader from the area stepped forward, his weathered face tense with respect and anxiety. He gestured toward a boy who was slumped in the middle of the room in a metal chair.
