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Harold Maine in: A Hollow Life
Part I

>Another night, another case.
>I found myself looking over papers from last week, jobs piling up out there along with the bodies. This city spits out psychopaths and murderers like Ford spits out automobiles, it does something to people. Kids grow up with dreams, they want to be businessmen, actors, heck even pirates, but reality always comes and snatches that away. It crushes your dreams and swallows them up, like a hungry mouth that can never be fed.
>Sometimes it feels like I've already been eaten, not much left in this place but the memories, mostly bad ones too. But tonight I could feel something different. The city was quiet, hushed. Not the usual hustle and bustle.
>Something had happened, you could smell it on the air, it was just a time until trouble started coming my way.