by the way this just the beginning.
In the darkest border of the nomadic composition which forms urban life, three men are in one dark heartless room. One of the men is seated, but not by his own choice. He has been tied up with sandy coloured rope and beaten a few times, his right eye looks like a ripe plum in June. Blood dripping from the right side of his mouth onto his white vest and his teeth stained by his own crimson life source.
This seated individual was not a giant of a man neither was he undersized, but an average man with medium length dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was christened in a church but this was no place for god. He was named Christian de Boer but he was renowned in the darkest parts of this gloomy city as Ghost. A Shadow of the City and before this point in his fulfilled but short life he was untouchable.
Accompanying Ghost in that deprived room was two men in matching black suits, both wearing white shirts and long black ties. The ties where both tied in double Windsor knot. They both had ear pieces in their ear and had the same matching belts with glimmering silver belt buckles. The stooges both had matching gold badges attached to the right side of their hips and matching black Glocks in their hands.
The first of these predators of the law had short faded dark hair, white gleaming teeth that were strong as a house formed of cement and bricks. He had base in his voice that could only be compared to a subwoofer on a 5.1 sound system. Well groomed was his jet black facial hair that was carved into a goatee and he possessed the eyebrows to match. His pumped up plum lips where constricted to form a smile. Not a smile of someone about to lose his station in the organisation he held so dear and near to him. This was Special Agent Alex Rica.
Like a Siamese twin to Rica stood the ageing vet. His once auburn hair is now grey and missing in parts. Crinkled leather skin and small rigid lips that accompany is balding grey hair. He had a blank expression as he had seen so many horrors in his time at the bureau. His pale and frail hands gripped his cold gun tightly. Not ready to negotiate the outcome, with a stern look in his eyes and an aura of coldness that filled the room. Green eyes of jade to show a hidden worth in this man, this distinguished man. This confusion of maleness is Special Agent Michael Rose.