The workshop was quiet except for the sound of chalk writing on the blackboard. There were a lot of shelves in the large room, containing materials, tools and finished and unfinished projects. Next to the large workbench Ken Smith were standing in front of his blackboard drawing up his latest idea, hooks he could attach weights to. At the moment he was considering different designs for the hooks, and he would be building every one of the ideas to satisfy his curiosity. The one he was drawing at that moment was inspired by the harpuns being used to catch whales, where barbs shot out once the harpun hit its target, making it impossible for the whales to free themselves from the harpun. Ken Smith wondered just how much weight he could put on that hook before it tore the human meat to shreds. It would be a fun experiment.

Working as a interrogator for the mafia Ken Smith was feared in the underworld, known for his methods and pure sadism that could get hard-boiled mobsters turning away about to throw up. Having made a name for himself in New York he had relocated to Miami when his the boss had told him it would be better if he relocated, and Ken Smith had done as he was told. He always did. He was very loyal to the DeMarco-family, they had given him a comfortable life and plenty of plaything, but his loyalty stopped there. Except for the DeMarcos themselves everybody in the organization were just a potential plaything for Ken Smith, and the expression on the face of a plaything who had witnessed his work and knew exactly what was going to happen was priceless.

When he had decided on how the hook would be designed he went over to the shelf with the materials, picking out what he needed and carrying it over to the workbench before getting the tools he needed. The only sound that could be heard was those Ken Smith were making as he worked on the hook, and that was the way he preferred it. He never listened to music when he worked, just the news when he was having his dinner, the rest of the day his house was shrouded in silence. Ken Smith enjoyed the silence, and when he worked he forbade anybody to talk, cough or anything else that made any sound. The silence made the work more intimate, he could pick up on all the small and interesting noises his playthings made. The smells became more intense as well, and he could really loose himself in his work and passion. Unless some annoying enforcer were standing right next to him demanding answers. The enforcers had no class, they didn't understand the beauty of his work, for them he was just a tool to get the answers they needed, and he delivered those answers every time. Oh how he loved it when he got to work on an enforcer, they were usually the biggest cry babies of them all. Not so much fun when on the other side apparently.

After working for a while Ken Smith suddenly put down his tools and went upstairs, it was time to have a cup of tea and sort through todays mail. With a bit of luck some of the books on those tribes doing headshrinking had arrived. Ken Smith had a huge collection of books and other artifacts delving into the more depraved parts of humanity, and it was his only other passion and interest.