The abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of the city never slept. The world ran in shadows in the heart of the syndicate’s dominion with reinforced steel and soundproof glass as they plotted their next move. The scent of cigarettes lingered in the air with the scent of leather and gun oil. The soft hum of several running servers could be heard throughout the room. The screen flickered with images of gunfire, blood, and men dropping like flies as they infiltrated Damon Blackwood’s estate in the dead of the night. A stupid mistake for a man so formidable, The Sovereign had to come see the chaos for himself.
No one alive knew his true name, even the five which sat at the helm of affairs of the syndicate. He was a silhouette draped in black, his figure cut sharp against the glow of a single l
