Boston is a city without pity or remorse. One little misstep, and you're done; sleeping with the fishes, or worse. As an ex-private eye, I've seen more than my fair share of missteps, including the one that tragically cut my career short. It's been two years now since I lost everything, and I'd thought I'd left it all behind. That is, until today. A frantic dame walked into my office this afternoon, hoping to enlist my services; the services I no longer offered. "HELP HELP HELP OH GOD HELP" "p-please calm down ma'am" "please sheriff antony you have to help me my dog has been kidnapped!!!" "sorry, toots, i'm retired; i don't take cases any more" I put my feet up on the table and lit up a fine cigar. "but your door says you're a private eye" "look lady do you even know how much it costs to have your door rebranded" "but-" "look lady unless the chief gives me back my badge, i can't investigate shit so just walk that sweet can out of here and go ask someone else" "FINE WHATEVER" I sat back in my chair and poured myself some whiskey, trying to convince myself that starting a carwash on the eighth storey of this building was a good idea.