Christmas Eve.
Hell’s Kitchen glows warm on the surface — lights in the windows, snow in the air. Underneath, the city is holding its breath.

A gang runs the night.
A stranger moves through it.
And somewhere in the steam, a whistle cuts through the cold.

Blood stains the snow. Silence breaks. Lines are crossed.
No heroes. No speeches. Just consequences.

Start at track one and listen straight through.
This is a Christmas story you don’t watch — you hear it.

Kater

Beginner

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