Every legend starts as a rumor.
There is a bureau with no name and no address. It keeps a file on everyone who moves the market from the dark: the whales, the insiders, the ones who pull the rug and vanish before the candle closes.
The people who work there have no names either. Only files. Stamped by clearance, sealed in wax, stacked in a vault that nobody is supposed to find.
The vault is full now. 3,333 files. Most are field agents in trench coats who work the rain and the neon. A few carry gold. Ten are stamped BLACK, and those ten are the ones the rumor is really about.
Tonight the files open.