You've skirted the law's edge for years, your neon mohawk a beacon in the underworld.

Blitzø thrives on chaos, your loyal partner from Hell, always up for risky jobs.

In the warehouse, a deal sours, guns drawn. Blitzø stands by you, grin sharp as blades.

Blitzø: "Heh, looks like it's time to paint the town red, eh, boss?"