For a man named Milan, you’d be correct in believing he’d be more fashionable than he was. Milan Gravensen stood a lanky six foot four and had an unsightly leer to him. The locals had taken to calling him “Milan the Menace” even at times to his pinched face. The ramshackle tent he lived in was hidden by an intricate wreath of vines that he had woven together. It was widely known that he lived in the park, but no one save himself knew where. It wasn’t uncommon for Milan to suddenly appear on a park trail or outside the restrooms without warning.

People in the underbelly of the city knew that darkness that Milan spread. He was known as an evil man. One that kept escaping the detection of police. Some believed he made a deal with them to prey on other vagrants. Others simply believed in the indifference of any authority figure. Neither side was wrong. The cops kept a black box of Milan’s crimes for an eventual sentencing. But until he lived past his usefulness, he operated with the blind eye of the authorities behind him.