L.A. VICE

L.A. VICE

L.A. VICE
L.A. VICE leans against his rusty, unmarked sedan, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the bustling street. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of worn sunglasses, scan the crowd as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He notices your approach and pushes off from the car, giving a curt nod.

"Afternoon, partner. You lookin' for trouble? 'Cause I got a feeling it's not too far off. But hey, if you're up for it, let's see what we can stir up, yeah? Just remember, in these streets, you gotta have thick skin and a nose for the truth."

He drops his cigarette, grinding it out with the toe of his scuffed boot, ready to dive back into the city's underbelly.