May 1, 2021. 00:38. Rome.
Tetra and I both stare at the photo Shock just dropped into the group chat.
"Don't wait up!!" she adds with a kissy face emoji.
She's sprawled across a sleek ripperdoc chair, one arm hanging lazily off the side. Cables run cleanly along her neck and collarbone, feeding into a polished chrome interface. The lighting's perfect—bright, clinical, sterile.
Looks like she's having the time of her life.
I raise an eyebrow. "Looks like she's getting that upgrade sooner rather than later."
Tetra frowns slightly. "Right now?"
"Well… all things considered," I shrug, glancing back at the photo, "it might not be the worst time."
Around us, our SUVs are parked cleanly along a street, blending in like they belong.
Rome stretches into the distance—dark, quiet, and cold under the late-night sky. Even out here on the outskirts, I can see it clearly. And despite the hour, the city still feels… alive.
The neighbourhood in front of us is a quiet mix of old and new—Renaissance arches and marble facades standing beside modern corporate builds. Modest, middle-class homes line the street in neat rows, clean and forgettable. Exactly what you'd want.
Dante's safehouse is no exception.
The air is cool, almost biting, but everything feels still. Peaceful, in a way that makes you lower your guard if you're not careful.
But my senses are on alert—and if one knew where to look, they'd see them too.
Bodyguards, scattered across the perimeter—on rooftops, tucked into parked cars, leaning casually near entrances. Civilian clothes, neutral tones. Nothing flashy.
What gives them away is the way they stand, though.
The way they watch—posture not quite civilian, but something sharper. Purposeful. Like they're waiting for something to go wrong.
Remi leans forward slightly, squinting at Shock's photo again. "Yo—is that a ripperdoc chair?"
Tetra's frown deepens. "She's getting surgery right now?"
"Minor upgrade," Dante says smoothly from the front. "Nothing invasive."
Tetra doesn't look convinced—but he lets it go.
I glance at him. "She knows what she's doing." I pause, then add a little quieter, "…Probably."
Wissen's across from me, eyes faintly glowing blue as he scrolls through incoming messages. Every now and then, he pauses—just for a second—like something catches his attention before he moves on.
I lean slightly toward him. "Is this place secure enough?"
"It will suffice," he replies without looking up. "You'll have time to prepare. Use it wisely."
"Fair enough."
"Rest assured," Dante adds, "it will have everything you need for your stay—both before and after the meeting."
Earlier, during the drive, Dante had brief us all on what's to come.
By the end of the week, there would be a "cultural gala." A public-facing, clean, and elegant event, cleverly disguised as a celebration of Rome's beauty, while also serving as a meeting for the bosses of the Neapolitan Camorra to gather under one roof.
It's a stage for Dante to present the railgun. To prove himself, and to earn the blessing of the soon-to-be-retiring godfather.
Everything we're doing… it all leads there.
Although I'm not a mind reader, I can basically infer, based on everyone's quiet expressions of focus, that they all have their own theories as to what will happen.
In fact, Remi's behaviour is the most telling. He's been quiet most of the ride—well, quieter than usual. Between barely getting time with his new bike and whatever's coming, I can tell it's eating at him a bit.
Still, he keeps it together.
Snapping me out of my thoughts, Tetra glances back down at Shock's selfie, still lingering on the screen. There's something in his expression—concern, maybe—but he doesn't say it out loud.
Mister's voice cuts through the quiet. "Has something happened?"
Wissen doesn't look up. "You may see more corporate activity over the next few days."
I raise a brow. "Wait—what does that mean?"
"From who, and in what way?" Mister follows up.
Wissen pauses this time. Just briefly. His expression stays neutral, but there's something underneath it—something tighter. "There is a high chance you will encounter Michelangelo again," he says. "He's been reassigned to the Arasaka European branch."
"Well," I scoff lightly, "that's convenient. Is he going to get in our way?"
"No," Wissen replies. "Arasaka has a different objective in mind—unrelated to ours. They informed me as a precaution, in case of any… unexpected overlap."
I hum quietly, letting that sit.
Of course they did.
"I mean, he is Italian himself," Tetra reasons. "It's not that strange for him to be stationed here. Not that I trust Arasaka as far as I can spit."
Mister's voice follows, measured. "But to come to Italy now? When we're making our move? That's highly unlikely to be a coincidence." He tilts his head slightly. "Think back to when we first met him. What was Arasaka's main reason for stationing him with us?"
"Yeah," I add, frowning slightly. "I agree with Mister—it's weirdly timed."
Wissen's eyes dull for a brief moment. "Perhaps. For the time being, their intentions are to combat the rise of 'insurgents' in the region. But anything can happen, so keep your wits about you."
"Meh. Maybe, maybe not." Remi shrugs, unbothered. "As long as Big M doesn't mess with us, we won't mess with him. I'd say we leave it there."
I glance at him. "So you're saying we just wait for everything to blow up?"
"Well, it's either that," he says, leaning back with his arms crossed, "or we start pinning strings on a corkboard and go full conspiracy mode."
Wissen clears his throat lightly. "While Remi is right about not overcommitting to worry, there is value in understanding the landscape." He pauses, eyes glowing blue again as he scans incoming data. "If it helps, Arasaka's European branch is currently expanding—but they've been facing underground resistance."
Before I can respond, he continues. "Which includes a group you're already familiar with."
He leaves it there.
And we all catch it.
Tetra goes quiet, turning that over in his head. He fidgets with a loose charm on him, brows knitting slightly. "Are we expecting that to interfere with us," he asks, "or is this just an FYI?"
Wissen considers for a moment. "At this stage, I'm not certain. It's very possible." He pauses, then adds, "I'll update you as more information comes in. For now—assume anything can happen."
Dante turns slightly, addressing the group. "If everything goes smoothly, this won't last more than two weeks. The gala is in a few days. If anything, I suggest using that time to do your research."
Around us, his staff and guards are already moving—boxes carried upstairs with quiet efficiency, including a few pieces of my gear.
"If anyone touches my stuff, I will end them," I say flatly.
Wissen lets out a small chuckle. "It'll be fine."
A moment passes—just a beat.
I exhale and let it go.
Remi glances toward the vehicles. "My bike better be safe."
Dante nods once. "It will be."
"Oh yeah," Remi adds, scratching the back of his neck, "can you explain more about the gala?"
Dante stares at him for a moment. Then something clicks, followed by a quiet exhale. "…Right. I never finished that conversation." He lets it go just as quickly.
"I'd prefer everyone be present for that discussion," Dante says. "If that's the case, I want Shock here."
Wissen steps in gently. "It might still be productive to go over it now," he says. "Even if people plan on resting, having the information early could help—especially if anyone wants to start looking into things tonight."
Dante pauses. Then nods once. "…That is fair." He shifts his stance slightly, addressing the group more directly.
"As a reminder, I was tasked with acquiring the weapon to prove my capability as a future leader," he begins. "The railgun represents the mafia's international reach. Logistical power. Access to advanced technology. The ability to operate beyond Italian territory. Returning with it signals that I'm capable of leading the Camorra in the modern era."
His gaze hardens slightly. "However… there is a complication. As agreed, the railgun has been modified to only fire once. Its functionality was altered in the past. Because of that, it's no longer a fully operational asset. And… if that becomes known, my credibility collapses immediately. So for now, we buy time. We conceal that limitation—at least until I replace the current Godfather."
"Right, so what would you need us to do?" I ask.
"During the gala, three things will happen behind the scenes," Dante says. "I present the railgun. My leadership is evaluated. Then the succession process begins."
He glances at us before exhaling lightly.
"The current Godfather has held the Camorra together for decades. He's chosen me as his preferred successor—quietly. So there's nothing official yet. As of right now, there are multiple heirs, with no final decision."
Mister raises a hand. "Beyond scouting threats and removing them, what exactly do you want from us during the gala?"
Dante nods once. "Expect some form of interference. Either the railgun—or I—will be the target."
Tetra crosses his arms, thinking it through. "So… who are the other heirs? I'm guessing they're not exactly happy about this."
"Some are minor players," Dante says. "Still climbing the hierarchy within the family—they don't matter. The real threats are the underbosses who handle the family's major operations: Antonio Romano—Finance. Elena DiMartino—Arms and international trade. Marco Vitale—Cybernetics and weapons. They all have their own agendas. Some support other candidates. Some support themselves."
His voice lowers slightly.
"Despite a large part of the family supporting me as the next boss, the broader leadership is divided, and several underbosses disagree about whether I should inherit the position. As a result, I only have one confirmed backer—Rafael Moretti, the head of security and the Godfather's personal bodyguard."
Tetra nods slowly. "So… trust Moretti, and nobody else?"
Mister cuts in. "We shouldn't rely on him completely either. No offense to Moretti, but I'd rather not put all our eggs in one basket."
I roll my eyes slightly. "Of course we've got multiple parties involved. So what exactly do we need to do?"
"With the time we have, not much in depth," Dante admits. "Prepare your gear. Do as much research as you can. Stay ready. Assume anything can happen."
Remi lets out a low whistle. "Say lesssss. If I can get some new drip and a whip, that'll be preem."
I shoot him a look, and he just laughs it off.
Wissen folds his arms. "I'll also look further into Arasaka—see if they'll get in our way."
Dante nods. "As for me, you'll have my guarantee that you'll be given access to all parts of the gala. But once it begins, you'll be operating under my branch. That comes with visibility—and a reputation tied to me."
"Hmmm…" I tilt my head slightly. "Out of curiosity—what made you the successor, anyway?"
Dante hesitates—just a flicker—before answering.
"I handle politics, negotiation, and international relations," he says. "That overlaps with the other underbosses, and it's already caused… friction." His gaze drifts for a second. "The Don decided it was more efficient to consolidate that authority under one successor—me. Not everyone agreed, of course."
I let that sit, then huff lightly. "Sounds like Shock's got a lot of work cut out for her."
Dante gives a small, dry smile. "That she does."
Remi stretches. "Aight, say less. I'm finna be in my room vibin'. Hit me if you need somethin'." He heads inside without hesitation.
Wissen glances at me. "Is there anything you need right now?"
"Hmmm." I pause, tapping my finger against my chin. "I want blueprints of the venue. Security detail. Everything." I adjust my outfit slightly. "I'll do my homework while getting ready. Ideally, I enter as a guest first… before being tied to Dante's team."
Dante considers it, then nods. "That's fine. Just don't forget the railgun. If that falls apart, everything does."
I nod once. "Of course," before turning and heading inside the safehouse.
…
May 1, 2021. 03:19. Rome.
The room is a little too quiet.
Normally, I'm not this on edge, but maybe it's the new environment—or the fact that I'm supposed to have a roommate—that's getting to me. Either way, the silence is the kind that makes you aware of every little sound.
The soft hum of electronics, the faint rustle of fabric, my own breathing—everything keeps me steady, but alert.
I can't really hear what's going on in anyone else's rooms. I assume they're doing just fine—either already asleep or about to be. The only one I can hear is Remi, his snoring somehow being the thing that puts me slightly at ease.
Two beds sit across from each other—one already a mess of my bags and cases, the other still clean and untouched—Shock's.
Crouching beside one of my suitcases, my fingers work the lock with practiced ease before it clicks open.
Inside is my kind of organized chaos.
Makeup kits. Wigs. Compact cases lined with precision tools. Thin, sleek modules designed to alter fingerprints. Voice modulators no bigger than a coin, meant to sit against my throat and be hidden later with makeup. Iris overlays, each one resting in sterile packaging.
I lift one briefly, letting it catch the light.
Yeah… this'll do.
I exhale quietly and reach into another case—this one heavier—fingers unlocking it just as smoothly. Inside, a few of my guns sit disassembled, clean and neatly packed.
I start putting one together without thinking, hands moving on autopilot as my eyes flick to my phone.
By my bedside, Wissen's files are still open—blueprints, entry points, security rotations, camera placements.
I skim through it again and again—who knows how many times—memorizing, mapping, planning every possible route for the night ahead.
Different roles run through my head—young businesswoman, "daddy's girl" with too much money to burn… though my favorites are always the ones where I play with levels of sophistication, shifting my vocabulary, tone, and mannerisms just enough to match the room I walk into.
And that's not even taking into account what the rest of the team has in mind. For all I know, I'll probably have to go guns blazing at some point.
A few footsteps pull me out of it—the door creaks open, and Shock steps in.
I pause for a second as our eyes meet, then give her a small glance, the corner of my lips lifting just slightly.
"Sup."
She doesn't even fully step in before speaking.
"What are you still doing up this late? Whateverrr—I'm too tired for this." She exhales dramatically, already halfway done with the conversation. "Here. Catch."
She flicks something through the air—a card—and I catch it instinctively.
"From my shopping trip and makeover," she continues, already turning slightly. "Courtesy of Best Girl™."
I look down at it, inspecting it carefully.
It's definitely not a standard keycard—at least not one I've seen before. If anything, it looks modified.
At first glance, it seems simple—clean edges, subtle reinforcement, barely any weight to it.
But with context, it clicks almost immediately—lower-level security clearance, probably tuned to blend in with existing systems here in Italy, maybe even the gala itself. Enough to pass initial checks without raising flags.
"I'll catch you up later," Shock adds, voice already fading as she leans against the doorframe. "World's spinning. Need, like… an hour. Maybe more."
"Oh—" I glance back up. "Thanks."
She notices the open briefcase.
"I won't take long," I say, catching her gaze as I start packing a few things back in.
There's a brief pause—just her watching my hands—before she suddenly springs back to life.
"Okay, but like… can you catch me up on how much you missed me?" she says, way too awake for someone who just claimed she was exhausted. "Because I've definitely missed you, Artie~"
She blows a few exaggerated air kisses in my direction. "And where the hell is Tetra for our sleepover?"
I lean back just enough to avoid them, rolling my eyes.
"If Remi almost crashing us into a wall is any indication," I say dryly, snapping the briefcase shut, "that's about how much I missed you."
I pause for a moment, debating whether to add the extra jab—then decide it's worth it.
"Oh, and Tetra took a different room."
"BOOOOOOO!" Shock doesn't just say it—she practically projects it.
Her phone comes out, and a full holographic angry emoji pops into existence in front of her, floating mid-air—exaggerated and obnoxious. The volume alone is enough that I'm pretty sure people outside our room can hear it.
"Fine then," she huffs. "He doesn't get any of my super awesome mega ultra cool gifts!"
A beat.
"Orrrrr any intel I got either~~"
I stare at her for a second before shaking my head, a quiet laugh slipping out before I can stop it. "Go to fucking bed."
A dramatic sigh follows, arms stretching overhead like the world personally offended her. "Ugh… whateverrrr," she mutters. "Fineee. I'm literally running on fumes right now. If I don't sleep, I will die—and then none of you get my gifts, so really, this is a group problem."
I snort quietly, shaking my head as I reach for the last of my gear.
"Mmm…" A pause. Then she turns back toward me, that same mischievous glint still there. "You sure you don't wanna join me?" she teases, dragging the words out. "We are roommates now, sweetie~"
I don't even look up. "Pretty sure you'd pass out before I even finish changing."
"Wowwww." A hand presses to her chest, offended. "Rude."
One last lazy air kiss is thrown my way before she flops onto the bed across from mine—barely bothering to get comfortable before she's already half out. "Mmmm… night, babes."
I shake my head, watching her for a second. Yeah, five minutes was generous.
Silence settles in again, but this time, it's not as bad.
I exhale, finishing up the last of my packing, checking that all my guns, cases, and equipment are sorted and secured.
Satisfied, I stand, stretching slightly before moving toward the lights.
My hand hovers over the switch—but then I pause, hearing movement in the halls. I glance back once.
Shock's already out. Of course she is.
Instead, I step toward the door and open it slightly.
The hallway is dim, softly lit—quiet, but not empty.
Tetra stands a few doors down, like he wasn't expecting to run into anyone.
I raise a brow, leaning lightly against the doorframe. "What are you still doing up?"
He looks over, surprised for a second—then relaxes slightly.
"I was gonna say that to you," he replies, glancing toward my room. "Didn't expect both you and Shock to still be awake."
"She isn't anymore." My lips curl into a smirk. "Passed out literally a few seconds ago."
He chuckles under his breath. "Yeah, that makes sense."
There's a brief pause after that—just us enjoying the silence of the night. That is, until we hear more voices in the hall, hushed but active in conversation.
I catch it first, but Tetra does too a few seconds later.
We glance at each other, then focus in the same direction.
Dante and Wissen. Their voices are quiet and deliberate, neither heated nor tense.
If anything… it's casual.
I straighten slightly, curiosity kicking in as I glance down the hall.
"…They're still up too?" I mutter.
Tetra nods once. "Yeah, sounds like it."
Another beat passes. We don't say anything else.
We don't need to.
I push off the doorframe and gesture for him to follow. "C'mon."
He falls in step beside me as we move down the hall.