Stephen

Yancy Lazarus is having a bad day: there's a bullet lodged in his butt cheek, his face looks like the site of a demolition derby, and he's been saran-wrapped to a banquet table. He never should have answered the phone. Stupid bleeding heart - helping others in his circles is a good way to die - just ask the gang members ripped to pieces by some kind of demonic nightmare in LA.

Hank was a dying breed on the space station Belvaille. The criminal gangs that had once made their homes there were forced out by the corporations that had taken over since the facility became an Independent Protectorate. Instead of the gentlemanly gang wars that had once dominated the scene, and made Hank's services prized as a negotiator, the city was now plagued by the clash of corporate armies using heavy weapons. Even tanks roamed the streets regularly.