1) "All around them, the partygoers were partaking of the food on the tables, the servants ably refilling any plates that were in danger of emptying. The punch bowl remained three-quarters full no matter how much of it was imbibed—and, it seemed, old Garth Duke was determined to imbibe most of it himself."

2) "Once, Malcolm Kelerchian was the finest investigator in the Tarsonis Police Force's Detective Squad. But the TPF didn't keep good investigators for very long—they were often snapped up by the military or the government, deemed far too useful to be wasted on mere local policing. That was a pity, as far as Mal was concerned. He liked being a detective. His clearance rate was three times that of any other detective in the squad. Admittedly, this wasn't a difficult feat to accomplish. The TPF was primarily made up of thugs and bruisers who mostly just made sure that the interests of the rich were protected."

3) "Like everyone else, Markus started out as a runner for the local dealer. In his case, it was Orphy Jones, back when he ran Pyke Lane. By the time Markus worked his way up to being a barker, Orphy got his head blown off by a rival dealer, the guy everyone called Grin, on account of how he didn't never smile. Grin's main lieutenant was a fast-loader named Jules. Wasn't long before Markus saw the words on the screen: Jules was the brains. Grin was just muscle, and wasn't much longer before a bullet from Jules's T20—this was before the P220s came out—was in Grin's skull and Jules started callin' himself 'Fagin' for some reason and started taking territory."

4) "Mal was suddenly startled by the beeping of his earpiece, with his computer informing him that it was Officer Fonseca. 'Excuse me, ma'am, I need to take this.' Without waiting for Killiany to acknowledge this, he said, 'Go ahead, Larry.' 'I got somethin'—probably shoulda brought it to you sooner, but I figured it was crap like most—' Mal didn't have the patience for this—not today. 'Spit it out, Larry.' 'Big talk on the street these days is someone workin' with Fagin—calls herself the Blonde. Some kinda enforcer.' 'Fagin?' The name didn't ring any bells with Mal. 'Who's that?' 'You don't know who Fagin is?' Larry sounded incredulous. 'He runs everything down here.' Mal couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'What do you mean?' 'He runs all the crap down here: the drugs, the protecton rackets, the booze—it all flows through Fagin. I thought you knew that, Mal—how the flick could you not know that?'"

5) Larry shook his head. 'Dammit, Mal, you used to be a good cop. A good cop knows his territory.' In a weak voice, and knowing it was foggy as the words came out of his mouth, Mal said, 'I never worked the Gutter.' 'Then you shoulda learned. Dammit, Mal, you used to be good police, and good police know how to work a neighborhood. Here's a clue: You don't do it by talkin' to people with a big sign on your flickin' forehead that says you're a confed.'"