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The veteran homicide detective with the Basset Hound face stands in a vacant lot, staring glumly down at a mutilated corpse dumped there overnight. Violent crime is common in this rust-pocked city, and the law itself often criminal. The detective sighs wearily. He searches his pockets for a cigarette before remembering he’s quit smoking. A small plane flies over, pulling a large banner. He follows it with his eyes. SMILE EMPTY SOUL, the banner says. I’m no criminologist or any other kind of -ologist, but that’s why I need to consult someone like him, who wants to watch the world burn, then save the people he loves.