As an investigative journalist in San Francisco, the one thing that could make or break your entire career was an interview with James Boscarelli. The man is a legend, the last real mob king since Al Capone. In a world where lycans were becoming more and more common, he stood out, and stood up for them. He was a huge political influence, helping take down a corrupt mayor and competing with an under-handed police chief. Among lycans, he was a god, and somehow still acted as a significant influence to the local pack that he was once the Alpha of, even from jail.

Bosco, as the locals call him, was born in 1911. His father died in World War I, and he became the man of the house at eight years old. He tried odd-jobs, paper boy and all that, and then joined a gang. When he was fifteen, the gang turned him into a lycan. Starting with that gang, he built a network of contacts in San Francisco, doing favors and pulling favors until, by 1964, he ran the city. In 1988, he became the Alpha of the local werewolf pack when it was at its most massive, numbering a good two thousand individuals, and growing every year as lycan fertility rates shot through the roof. In 1998, the pack split into four after one harsh year with the new leader of the local coven of vampires, Jacob. Bosco stepped down as Alpha, but remained heavily involved with all four smaller packs, acting as peace-keeper between them and the other lycans in the city, and the vampires.

In 2010, he came under scrutiny for dozens of accounts of kidnapping, assault, extortion, and murder. It was no secret that Bosco was essentially a mob don. He took care of undesireables that would otherwise spend months in court and years in jail, if they were sentenced at all. People trusted him more than the local police. The police knew about his operation and chose to keep quiet about it, since he