How did it go so wrong?
Vicious wakes up in an alleyway. The drugs are gone. His briefcase is empty; a solitary hundred-dollar note flutters, caught in the hinge. The drop-off has gone terribly wrong and he is in a lot of trouble.
His mouth is dry and there is a throbbing pain. He reaches up to his neck and pulls out a syringe - a tiny trickle of black fluid still trapped inside.
His phone rings. The needled voice tells him he has been injected with a poison. He doesn't have long to live, unless he can track down the antidote. With a whiny click, the voice is gone.
Vicious knows what the antidote is. The only problem is, it's in the hands of the two most dangerous people in the city: the drug lords who all but control the population.
In the north: Indian Joe, patron of Speed and cocaine; a mountain of a man, ruthless and notorious for his short temper and violent outbursts.
And Fiver, the white rabbit of the South, commanding the river of heroin and opium, a mysterious figure surrounded by whispers of a dark cruelty.
Each of them has a piece of the antidote, but they're not just going to hand it over. Vicious was supposed to be the middle-man, overseeing a huge deal between Fiver and Indian Joe, but it just went horribly wrong and he has a feeling they're not going to be too happy to see him.
His girlfriend's not answering his calls. Oh, and he's seeing demons.
This bad day just got a whole lot worse.