Another sleepless night.

I can still hear the ol' blowhard fuming. steam pourin' out his bolts. Ears still ringin' from the chorus of police justice. But that ain't nothin' new. Once I spilled about the info I found during that case, The boss began singin' a different tune entirely, apparently they'd been tracking these guys longer then i've been on the force. Lucky me.

After a long "talk" with the Commish about losing the Phantom kid, I decided to hit the streets for some info. Info on this "Dark syndicate" as they call themselves.

I recieved an anonymous tip this morning from a little birdie, calls themselves "Kitten". Cute name. The tip spoke of a place on the bad side of town, a small hangout known to thieves and cuthtroats as "The Place". In short, it's a bar down the alleyways of the city. Been there once. Never thought I'd be coming back like this, but it's all I got.

My feet shuffle along the pavement as I head toward my destination. This familiar scenery, Nah. Don't like it one bit... Reminds me of..

...That time.