This city. This fucking city. I hate it, I really do but it’s where I have to work. Not your average daily grind type of job, but work all the same. I have to hunt.

You see, the police in this city, they’re scared. Too scared to go after the criminals that really matter. They hang back and go after the small time crooks. It doesn’t achieve shit.

Tonight, my target, a guy name Tromme Bonne. He’d killed his wife and children in an insurance fraud. Bad enough, but when he realised the cops didn’t care, something snapped and 20 dead bodies later, here we are.

I’d managed to track him down to a bar on the outskirts of downtown, getting blown by a japanese transvestite. When I told him what I was there for, he tried to run for it but only made it as far as the alleyway before he got a bullet in the knee.

He begged for his life, just like they always do. But I never listen, I’m not paid to listen, I’m paid to kill.

The bullet in his brain soon silenced him.