The single child of a wealthy family, David King seemed destined for greatness. While growing up in Manchester, he demonstrated serious potential in both sports and academics, and with his family connections, all doors were open to him. He could have succeeded at anything, if it weren't for his combative nature. David lived for the adrenaline rush of a good fight and would go out of his way to get into one. His robustness and athletic abilities led him to rugby, where he could cut loose and really cause a ruckus. King excelled and gained a reputation as a promising, if somewhat reckless, rookie. His meteoric rise came to an abrupt end when he lost his temper and assaulted a referee, earning himself a lifetime ban from the league and cutting short what most people assumed was going to be a long, successful career. King was unconcerned; money was no issue, so he took it as an early retirement and focused on other fun things to do. Free from the constraints of a career and enabled by the wealth of his family, David King spent most of his time at the pub, drinking, watching games, and getting into fights. Some might say he was wasting his life away. Not many people knew that he was an occasional "debt collector" or that he fought in clandestine bare-knuckle fight clubs. When David King stopped showing up at the pub, the few friends he still had were not surprised. They figured he had finally picked a fight with someone stronger than he was. In a way, they were right.

Growing up in a Lebanese household in Brooklyn, Zarina struggled with two unique cultural identities. She felt that this cultural difference painted a target on her back. To avoid ridicule and bullies, she observed what popular kids liked and learnt to project the image they preferred. At school, she would go by the name "Karina", dye her hair lighter, and trash her "foreign" lunches. At home, the news channel was always on. Urgent reports of injustice captivated Zarina, inspiring her to produce her own stories. When she was a teenager, she embraced her real name and roots, and borrowed her father's digital camera to interview members of her community in Bay Ridge. By posting her content online, she slowly built a loyal following. Each week, she picked a new issue and challenged people to speak their mind on camera. When she heard a rumour that a fast-food restaurant owner was exploiting workers, she decided to go undercover and produce a hard-hitting film. She modified her look, faked an accent, and secured a waitress position at the restaurant. After three weeks of unpaid work, she was fired for demanding her paycheck. To retaliate, she posted clips of the restaurant owner's abusive behaviour and within hours, the news had picked up her story, but somehow spun it to create sympathy for the restaurant. Embittered by the experience, Zarina, committed to become an independent producer and filmmaker. Her first feature film was for a competition at school inspired by an English class poem about Sacco and Vanzetti, two Italian migrants controversially executed for murder. Her film won first prize and launched her as an uncompromising documentary filmmaker. Months later, her world turned upside down. A public video surveillance camera filmed her father carrying two coffees at a street corner a few blocks from home. A tall, hooded man stood behind him. The man shouted something at her father, who took a step back, startled. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the man pushed him in the street as a car sped by. His death caused a shock-wave of anger and pain, that left Zarina in pieces. The perpetrator — Clark Stevenson — was soon arrested and incarcerated for manslaughter. Zarina became obsessed with Clark — his gang "IR-28", his short prison sentence, his apparent lack of remorse. A year went by and she had uncovered enough about Clark to shed more light on his crime. With the last of her inheritance, she bought a new camera and a plane ticket to Nebraska, and bribed the warden at Hellshire Penitentiary to let her interview Clark. She filmed their first meeting and asked him about her father, and his gang, and his violent tendencies. Clark refused to talk; but, in the weeks that followed, she used her research to push his buttons and finally got a confession of a pre-meditated crime. Zarina's film became a tribute to her father and the trail of blood left by gang violence. When the news finally picked up the story, it was because the film had gained international acclaim. Some inmates contacted her when they heard about her documentary. Most of them shared eccentric anecdotes in hopes of being filmed, but one story stood out from the rest: an entire wing in Hellshire Penitentiary was sealed off because of the "Mad Mick Massacre." The official story was that an Irish outlaw had heartlessly slaughtered the warden and his guards. From working on her Sacco and Vanzetti film, Zarina knew that the 'official' story wasn't always the 'true' story. She investigated Hellshire's records and found an Irish-born inmate sentenced to fifteen years for assault in 1860. According to the penitentiary's blueprint, the sealed off wing was part of Hellshire's original infrastructure. If she reached that sealed off section, she could shed some light on the Mad Mick story. All she needed was a way in. The next morning, she was joining the Hellshire Penitentiary walking tour. She blended into the crowd of jet-lagged tourists, and veered off when they headed towards the kitchen. She had memorised the blueprint and knew exactly where to go and how to avoid surveillance cameras. An unexpected security detail nearly cut her investigation short, but she was able to hide under an old, dusty prison bed. When the guards disappeared, she continued her search and finally found Mick's cell. Entering the dark, dilapidated cell, Zarina ran her hand across the old brick wall. Her fingers felt a marking and traced the letters: DEATH TO BAYSHORE. A loose brick fell, revealing a gap. She inserted her hand. Fingers landed on a piece of cold, cracked metal. She fished it out... an old, rusty wrench. A damp chill ran down her spine and she looked down; a man lay at her feet, bleeding, his limbs contorted and his eyes, dark and terrified — her father's eyes. A pool of crimson blood on black pavement. Paralysed, black fog filled the cell and she shut her eyes to push these nightmarish visions out of her mind.

Ace Visconti is one charming guy. With his sharp Italian looks, grey-streaked hair and silver tongue, he could pass for an ageing 50's movies star. His heart has always belonged to the cards. From his roots as a poor boy in Argentina, he gambled, scammed, seduced and smooth-talked his way to a life of luxury as a high roller in the land of opportunity. Despite money always having a way of slipping through his fingers, Ace always figured he could win more. He never fulfilled that ambition; eventually he racked up too many debts with the wrong kind of people. And when they finally came to collect, Ace was nowhere to be found. No one knew who tipped him off or where he fled to, but anyone who knew Ace Visconti can agree on one thing. He will survive: against all odds.