The trusty old hatch made the same noises. The light rain hitting the windscreen, the slight crunch if you were too rough switching from second to third. The driver side door has a slight angle, so it always creaks when you shut it. Inspector Vinci knew it all too well... The streets of Old London weren't the safest place to be, and there usually weren't any paintings hanging in the darkest nooks. Paintings in general were a rare sight, even in the Old World. Usually they would be replaced by holograms or tablets. Sometimes you could be lucky, you could stumble upon a fellow geezer, most of us still keep paintings.

But Vinci wasn't met by any geezers. Instead, he was met by a droopy set of lips on a young face, way too young for the circumstances. The face was completely covered, only where the rain had fallen could you see through the thick layer of crimson. On the back, the corpse had three holes, not unlike the ones you would see in movies from the old world. The nearby residents were questioned, and