Prologue
What do you do when the city you live in goes belly up and dies, it's cracked gullet swollen shut after a decade long economic collapse that choked it of the cash that kept it juiced up and breathing?
How do you plead when your backwater dive home town shoots itself square between the eyes before you ever had anything worth having, and the executor of her deceased estate comes knocking on your door, ready to chain you to a crumbling ruin along with the rest of your 'too young to bust a gut for nothing or no-one' generation?
You do nothing, that's what. You do nothing and you stay put on your own little patch and you don't plead with nobody for nothing worth giving a damn about.
If the world wants to throw you and your mid twenties arse in an open air prison and lock it down for good along with anyone else who doesn't know any better, how are you going to stop it?
No.
You just got to meet the challenge, that's all.
So, you take it as it comes, that's what. You find a service to provide and try turning your hand at the biggest market in liquidity there is: crime.
You set up with gangsters, petty scavengers and the collected fat cat criminal big shots who got the tall end of the concrete jungle sorted.
Last but not least you learn how to survive on the streets, when no-one's got your back. And you go looking for a reason not to stop pushing until a stray bullet finds you somewhere in a back alley gutter.
