“Fuck it’s cold...” hissed the little boy through his teeth. A shiver crossed his body and he clenched his jaw, walking through the cloud he had recently exhaled. He finally stopped in front of the massive tree, home of his late father, down in LA. The tree has huge, if he had read his father’s notes correctly, it was the home for a mob family, lead by a bird. He pushed the front door open and entered the odd HQ, hoping he would find what he was looking for. 

It reeked death inside, with a background of wet and damp wood. The stairs had collapsed on themselves, leaving the second floor unreachble from the inside. There were a couple of holes in the ceiling, which gave the snowflakes the opportunity to fall inside and land on Kid’s face as he looking up.

He shook his from left to right. He was getting side tracked, he had to find his father’s room. He roamed around the mezzanine, opening every door and searching every corner. Where could it be? The Golden King, so often mentionned in his father’s journals. It had to be here, it couldn’t be anywhere else. He looked up to the second floor. He had to find a way to get there.