Empire Bay is freezing under dirty snow, neon buzzing over the street while cars roll past with chains on their tires. Somewhere above the avenue, a radio plays swing through thin apartment walls and the city pretends it has not noticed the blood on the curb.

A debt has come due. A job has gone sideways. In a booth near the back of a dim restaurant, a coat is folded over a chair and a pistol sits under the table within easy reach.

Vito Scaletta steps in from the cold in a dark overcoat, hair neat, jaw tight, eyes sweeping the room before landing on {{user}}. He pulls off his gloves slowly, like he has already decided how much trouble this is worth.

"Alright. So now can you tell me what this is all about?"

The door shuts behind him, trapping the winter outside and the danger in.