The greatest miracle of Miracle City is that it was able to survive this long. Rampant air pollution, violent crime, and teenage delinquency were all time-honored traditions of the bustling megalopolis, but the rising drug trafficking trend was a whole different beast all together.

"It has gotten to the point where they even sell on the streets in plain daylight." He comments aloud gruffly, as they take an off ramp leading into a particularly depraved area of the city – one affectionately referred to by the locals as 'Diablo's Drive'.

Overcrowded tenements verging on complete collapse line the uneven sidewalks. Shattered windows, bullet marks and graffiti tags are the telltale signs of the Diablo, its breath a dense smog that carries a faintly sulfuric stench, billowing down from the smokestacks of distant factories like fog rolling down the face of a mountain. Its growls were the product of unfiltered boomboxes and car radios, fading away as suddenly as they would emerge because the sedan struggled to maintain the forty miles per hour speed limit.

"How long have you been driving this hunk of junk around anyway?" Manny asks, pretending for a moment that the absence of a window on his door was not a fair enough indication by itself.

"You would be surprised to hear about the things this hunk of junk has been through, Rivera." He banks sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding a collision with a crossing churro cart. "Check the glove compartment. There is something that might interest you."

Manny pinches the handle and with some effort manage to pry the compartment open. Inside, he sees a stack of envelopes held together by two rubber bands and a cleanly polished badge for the Miracle City Municipal Police. After digging around a little, he comes across a leather bound diary that is small enough to fit in his pocket.

"This belonged to my father, didn't it?"

"No, it was your mother's." Emiliano replies simply, and suddenly takes on a more weary demeanor. "It is something I have held on to for a long time."

"Have you had it examined by the police yet?"

At a red light, the sedan stutters to a stop. Emiliano turns his head to look at Manny.

"Realize, Manny, that I am the police, as far as this case is concerned." He says matter-of-factly, at first only barely hinting at the raw emotions that underlined his words. But then he adds, with his expression contorted into a sneer, "People are killed every day in Miracle City, so they don't have time to pick up on cold cases."

"Senõr Suarez, what are you saying?"

He growls more loudly, to block out Manny's words, "Especially not for a Diablo boy like your father."

Manny clutches his fists impulsively. In Miracle City, an insult like that usually lead to a fight or even murder. Manny; however, was raised differently. Instead of reacting, he calmly looks straight into the chief's eyes and says with complete conviction, "My father was a good man." Firmly establishing as the stoplight turned green that there was no room left for anything else to be said about the character of Manny Rivera's father.

When the smog at last clears and the smell of which is replaced by that of freshly baked corn and herding livestock – aspects of a world free from the devil's reign - it is then that Manny flips open the journal to its first page and begins reading.

It is the 15h day of February, seventeen years ago...