"Black Odin" AKA Op2 is wandering down the smokey alley outside of Parfaxitas Lounge drunk after another night of hustling. Barely hears the quiet footsteps quickly approach from behind, but the iron crowbar against the back of his knees registers. The familiar resonant vibration of bones giving out and snapping resounds throughout his body, a punctuation mark for his wrongdoings. Two masked ayin-mem gangsters standing over the aftermath with smug grins. "Aight, let's load him up in the medical transport." - Familiar voices... he musta been sold out by some acquaintances, he thinks.