New York City in the 1930s: Mobsters, made-men, and oragnized crime are on the rise. Immigrants from China legal and illegal bridge a shakey gap of cultural awareness and shock from the mysteries of Chinatown to the weird ‘kung-fu’ that they all seem to know. High society parties of the rich spiral into the early hours of the morning. They hoard away riches while they try and make the best of the situation off the common man who is desperate and disinfranchised exploited and stealing what and when they can. Meanwhile Jazz music floats through the streets from downtown to Harlem. Shattered dreams are hidden in the mists of nighttime and forgotten and drowned out in the bottom of an empty high ball glass. The stories are there to tell, some good, some pretty, some sad, some morbid, and the unfortunate few left are twisted horrifically by fate. It’s Life in New York. Shorter than a New York Minute is the time it takes to make it big or loss it all.

Something’s got to give before it all comes down in this crazy town. Morality, Sanity, Common decency? No one knows for sure but late at night everyone knows the streets of this city don’t look clean. You really don’t know who the crooks are or who the saviors will be. If the government made it legal to at least get a stiff drink again you know it’s bad. But it always gets bad before it could get worse. Verdicts still out if this is one of those times though.

The Crimson Emperor

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