"Chezza", as the locals so affectionately call it. [ Someone's done his homework. Hallelujah breezes past the sign with an aura that can be called threatening, at best. He'd suggested they dressed down, but the fact of the matter is that they stand out here. Streets are lined with trash and shifting shadows. Drunks and degenerates populate every nook and cranny. They practically glow in comparison. Hallelujah just has to make sure he sets the bar high as far as intimidation goes. ] Pathetic, isn't it? All this shine on the surface, and look what you get when you dig it up!

[ Home sweet home. How many times had he walked Allelujah through places like this? ]

Still, you can find little birds.

[ Ones that chirp well, saying things like mafia. ]