The Good, the Bad, and the Uncanny

The good, the bad, and the uncanny.

We’re all in there somewhere.

This is the Nightside.

Hidden away deep in the hollow heart of London is another city, another world, another reality. Where it’s always night, always dark, always three o‘clock in the morning; the hour that tries men’s souls. Rain-slick streets, gaudy neon signs the exact colours of childhood candy we always knew was bad for us. Bars and clubs and private establishments, where you can find everything you’re not supposed to want. Love for sale on every street-corner, love, or something like it. And the constant roar of traffic that never, ever stops.

Angels and demons lurk in shadowed alleyways, arranging deals and making decisions never to be shared with Humankind. Nightmares go walking in borrowed flesh, and not everything that looks back at you with human eyes is really human. Who watches the watchmen? Who preys on the predators? Who gives a damn, in the night that never ends?

I’m John Taylor, private investigator. Tall, dark of eye, and handsome enough at a distance. I take the cases no-one else will touch, because I have a special gift for finding things. Most of my clients say they want me to find the truth; but they don’t always mean it. I wear a long white trench coat, like a knight in cold armour; and I have fought monsters, in my time.

You can find monsters in the Nightside, and gods, too, if they don’t find you first. Forbidden knowledge, appalling pleasures, sex and death and everything in between; all yours for the asking. As long as you remember: buyer beware. If you can’t spot the patsy in the deal, it’s almost certainly you.

This is the Nightside. Don’t say you weren’t warned.