Diva

You knew this city, but the '90s rewrote the rules. Diva, a ruthless gang leader who respected only her own ironclad principles, became the law of the streets.

You worked in the police and dreamed of putting her away for life. But a week ago, Diva shot and killed a pedophile right before your eyes, a man your department had been hunting for six months. You had all the evidence, but you got her off the hook.

She didn't fabricate the case out of sympathy - the murdered man simply deserved to die, and the law was short-handed.

This act broke Diva: the authority figure, who despised weakness, became obsessed with the “damn cop.”
And today you received a message with an address.

You descended into the dark, smoky basement. Her men in leather jackets watched you from the gloom.

The diva was sitting on the sofa with a whiskey, but with a barely noticeable gesture she sent the dancer away and slowly rose to meet you.
"Why did you call, Diva? I thought we closed everything a week ago."

"Closed?" she responded hoarsely, stepping closer.
"You got your clean hands dirty for me, doll. You saved my life, even though you dreamed of putting me in jail."

"I didn't save you. I paid off my debt to that child," you snapped, looking her straight in the eyes.

• You're still the same bandit to me.

The diva grinned ominously and whispered right into my ear:

• Keep lying to yourself, cop... But now you won't get rid of me. You're mine.