May 3, 2021. 18:42. Rome. 4 days left till the gala.
"Okayyyy, wait."
Shock narrows her eyes at me dramatically, phone held up in one hand while she circles me for what feels like the tenth time.
"Artie…"
I stare back at her.
She points at me.
"You are EATING right now."
I blink.
"…Oh, actually?"
A smirk slowly pulls at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it.
Shock gasps.
"LOOK AT YOU!"
I glance down.
Black security slacks. Light tactical undershirt. Utility belt. Half-zipped fitted jacket over it. Hair tied back. Minimal makeup. Earpiece clipped on.
Dante had already sent over what the gala security teams would be wearing ahead of time—background staff, private security, logistics, event support. Enough variations that if someone needed to disappear into the crowd, they could.
Which gave me enough material to plan out quick interchangeable outfits if I needed to switch looks on the fly.
What I didn't account for, apparently, was that it also meant Shock would start styling me too.
Again.
I glance back up.
"…Damn. You might be onto something."
Shock clutches her chest dramatically.
"ARTIE!"
I shrug lightly, trying and failing to hide the grin. "Hey, I'm just agreeing with you."
She points at herself proudly. "Exactly."
I roll my eyes and turn back toward the mirror.
Still.
I smile slightly.
Her praise scratches at my ego more than I'd like to admit.
The outfit isn't bad at all.
It's not flashy enough to stand out, and it's clean enough to disappear while still preserving a distinct silhouette.
I catch myself admiring my reflection for a second too long before forcing myself to move.
Opening one of my cases, I start digging through supplies instead—rows of wigs in different cuts and colours, sealed contact lenses, makeup kits, and small voice modulators designed to subtly shift pitch and tone depending on what role I'm playing.
Blonde. Black. Brown. Longer hair. Shorter hair.
My fingers pause over one of the voice devices.
Then I look back at myself in the mirror.
Just when I find another combination that might work, the soft whistling of Remi coming down the hallway makes me freeze.
I pause, already expecting what comes next.
"YOOOOOOO!" he calls out.
Yep, there it is.
I sigh quietly to myself.
"What?"
I immediately regret turning around.
He walks into the room and points directly at me.
"You look like one of those NPC bodyguards."
I stare, then raise a brow.
"You must be incredibly bored, huh?"
Remi shrugs nonchalantly, raising both hands.
"…Maybe."
Shock immediately nods aggressively.
"SEE? SEE?!"
I point at both of them.
"You two need hobbies besides either staring at me or walking around smoking pot on someone else's property."
Remi grins. "Choom, this is how I spiritually heal."
I seriously consider smacking him right there.
Instead, I adjust my sleeve.
Across the room, Tetra sits quietly near the edge of one of the beds while Shock's outfit boards and sketches float around in holograms projected from some tiny piece of tech she left hovering over the desk.
He watches the chaos for a bit before speaking.
"So… what's the plan for the next few days?"
That actually gets all of us to stop and look at him.
Shock dramatically flops backward onto the bed.
"Wellllll… business people are doing business people things."
"…That explains nothing." Tetra frowns. He scratches his chin, clearly mulling something over before Shock cuts him off.
"Girllll, there's nothing to worry about. At least right now." She shifts onto her stomach and props her chin up in her hands. "Dante, Mister, and Wissen have all been out networking."
She starts counting with her fingers.
"Mister's doing his fixer thing. Dante's doing mafia politics. Wissen's… being Wissen."
Honestly? Fair.
Shock continues.
"Apparently Mister's been making connections while Dante and Wissen kindaaaa…" She twirls her hand vaguely. "…watch and vibe."
I raise a brow.
"Watch and vibe? What does that mean?"
Shock lowers her voice dramatically.
"Y'know…" She glances around the room. "I think they're evaluating him."
I pause, contemplating that.
Yeah… it's possible.
Wissen is still trying to find a successor after all.
I have no clue if Mister's actually qualified or not, but so far… he shows promise, I think.
Tetra glances at me. "What do you think?"
I shrug. "It… wouldn't be out of left field."
"So basically…" Remi snaps his fingers. "We're unemployed."
"NUH UH! FALSE!" Shock sits upright dramatically. "We're currently in a pre-gala training arc."
"…Bro that sounds fake."
"It's not fake." Shock gestures at me. "Look at Artie."
I narrow my eyes. "What about me?"
Shock stands, walks over, grabs my shoulders, and turns me toward everyone. "Girl, hello?!" She gestures broadly. "YOU'RE A BADDIE!"
Remi snorts. "More like a gonk in a fancy jacket."
I stare at him.
The temptation to strangle him is high, but I ultimately decide not to fall for the bait.
"…I'm gonna kill you."
"Okaaayyy diva, go choke him out or something," Shock says, hands on her hips.
"That's it." I roll my eyes while laughing, pushing her forehead away. "Out."
She stumbles backward dramatically like she's been mortally wounded. "EXCUSE ME?!"
What starts as a quiet laugh turns into a progressively louder chuckle from Tetra.
I frown and glance over. "…What?"
He immediately straightens. "Nothing, nothing." He shakes his head with a small smile. "It's just weird seeing the contrast between deathly serious and weirdly goofy."
He pauses.
"But I guess that's kind of our thing."
Remi whistles while swiping through his phone over and over.
"No, for real." He shrugs. "I was expecting this trip to be lowkey kind of a drag… and I dunno… shit hitting the fan so bad we'd have to delta right after landing."
He leans back.
"So far it's mostly been yapping and chilling. Not that I'm against it. Hell, I don't even think we've had a run-in with a badge yet."
I roll my eyes. "Please. That's because one of us has been covering your ass before you get busted."
Remi points at me immediately.
"Okay, true." He nods. "But that still proves my point."
I glare at him.
Damn it.
Thankfully, I don't have long to sit in my irritation because Shock claps once to get everyone's attention.
"Okay, okay, sooooo…" She spreads her arms dramatically. "The security fit is done."
Then she points at me.
"Now let's try disguise number two."
I blink.
"…Wait, what?"
Glancing around the room, I take in the pile of clothes I've already gone through, along with the wigs, contacts, and half-open makeup kits.
"I mean… I'll probably do my makeup the day of—"
"Oh, babes," Shock cuts in immediately. "We're only getting started."
She pulls another outfit off the rack.
I roll my eyes. "Oh for fu—"
Then Remi immediately sits upright.
"YO PAUSE!"
Tetra quietly chuckles. "What is it now, Remi?"
Remi points at his phone and then our phones go off one by one with notifications from the groupchat.
For half a second, nobody moves.
Then Shock reaches for hers first, still casual. "Ooooh, group chat drama?"
Her smile lasts maybe two seconds. Then it drops.
Tetra notices immediately and checks his own phone too. His expression shifts almost as fast.
I'm still standing in front of the mirror, half-dressed in security gear, one hand holding a wig while the other hovers over a row of contact lenses.
"…Okay," I say slowly. "What happened?"
Remi scrolls once, then squints at the screen. "Uh… Wissen's saying the Neo-Tanwir and the Cosa Nostra are already moving." He looks up. "Whatever the fuck that means."
Shock doesn't say anything.
Which, by itself, makes me turn and pull my phone back out.
The first thing I see is a message from Mister.
"Dante's return is spreading throughout the region. Confirmation that he possesses the railgun has accelerated the situation.
My stomach tightens slightly.
Of course.
Dante follows right after.
"Internally, the Neapolitan Camorra is also growing tense. There is uncertainty regarding the gala, and communication between several underbosses has become limited.
Shock stares at the message.
No joke. No "girlboss" comment. No dramatic gasp.
Just silence.
Tetra sits up straighter on the edge of the bed. "That's… not good."
"No shit, choom," Remi mutters, scrolling again. "What does that mean, though?"
Another message pops up from Mister.
"What few connections I've made here are also reporting suspicious activity throughout Italy, especially Rome. Nothing confirmed yet, but the pattern is unusual.
Wissen backs up Mister almost immediately. "I can confirm similar movement from my end. A noticeable number of mercenaries are pulling out of Italy or being redirected elsewhere in Europe."
I frown. "Why would mercs leave when things are heating up here?"
Shock finally speaks, but her voice is quieter than usual. "Because someone's paying better somewhere else."
There's a brief pause before Wissen's message appears almost immediately, as though he'd already been expecting the question.
"Corporate jobs are rapidly increasing across Europe due to transport attacks, political instability, and security concerns. Governments are also hiring private contractors at a higher rate. Even other organizations are looking for help. However, the strange part is that Italy is being avoided more than expected.
I stare at the screen.
What the fuck? That doesn't feel right at all.
That's so fast too…
If Italy's heating up, shouldn't mercs be circling like vultures?
Tetra's brows pull together. "So either they know something we don't…"
"Or they're being pulled away on purpose," I finish.
Remi exhales through his nose. "That sounds mad convenient."
I frown and type into the group chat.
"Do we even think this is related to the gala? Or is Europe just imploding on schedule?"
Wissen responds almost immediately. "Arasaka is expanding its presence slowly, but carefully. There is also growing animosity between them and Biotechnica executives. Rumours suggest a low-level corporate conflict may already be forming in the background."
Tetra frowns. "Weird timing."
Shock finally snaps back just enough to type. "Do we think this has any relation to the gala?"
Dante replies not long after. "No. I doubt it. From what I can gather, this has been developing for some time. This may simply be unfortunate timing."
Shock's thumbs hover over the screen after that, but she doesn't send anything else.
I set the wig down, my attention fully on the group chat now.
Tetra glances between us. "I don't know what to think yet, but I don't like the timing."
Remi raises a hand slightly. "I'm gonna be honest, chooms. I don't know what half of this means."
"Shocking," I mutter.
"But," he continues, ignoring me, "I agree it's weird as hell."
I glance back down at the screen. "What can we even do?"
For a moment, nobody in the room answers.
Then Mister types. "With the time we have, direct action is difficult. The safest option is to identify patterns. Any overlap matters here."
"Correct. Don't overextend." Wissen follows shortly after. "We do not need to solve the entire situation tonight. We need to identify which threats are most likely to intersect with the gala."
I let out a slow breath.
"That's easy to say when the whole country's moving weird."
Shock laughs once, but there's no real humour in it.
"Welcome to Italian politics."
Before anyone else can respond, another message appears.
"There is another issue. Some of my Camorra contacts are now missing."
My eyebrow raises, and I quickly thumb out a response. "So what does that mean?"
Dante replies not long after. "It means I have fewer people to turn to for the gala."
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Shock's expression change.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Her usual relaxed look tightens into something quieter—more serious. Her fingers curl a little tighter around her phone.
Dante continues. "As a precaution, I am increasing security for the gala. I will also be looking into whether this is internal pressure, Cosa Nostra interference, or something else."
Remi's eyes widen slightly. "Missing? Like dead missing or ghosted missing?"
"No one knows yet," Tetra says quietly.
"That's the problem," I add.
Wissen rejoins the conversation. "I'd like to remind everyone that we have too few days to work with. Realistically, diving into too many rabbit holes will eventually hit a point of diminishing returns."
Shock's jaw tightens as she types. "I'll help Mister. I can start crawling through local networks." Then she sits up straighter, eyes sharpening.
Mister responds quickly. "I would appreciate the assistance."
"KK. I can bounce through Camorra resources. Local servers, old security systems, business fronts, comm relays. Would that be enough for now?"
"Yes. Your help would be appreciated on this. I will cross-reference with my new contacts and check for overlap with mercenary repositioning."
Wissen adds another message. "Good. Focus on irregular movement patterns around Rome first. If mercenaries are leaving Italy, then whoever remains matters more."
I stare at that for a second.
That… actually makes sense.
If everyone ordinary is leaving, then the people staying behind are either desperate, loyal, trapped… or planning something.
Tetra folds his arms, eyes still fixed on the group chat. "So the criminal underworld is reacting too."
Shock nods slowly. "Yeah. Mercs repositioning, contacts disappearing, underbosses going quiet, corps getting twitchy…"
Her voice trails off.
Remi gestures vaguely into the air. "That's not a vibe."
He pauses.
"That's like… the opposite of a vibe."
"No kidding," I mutter.
My eyes flick back toward the mirror.
The security outfit suddenly feels a lot less like preparation and a lot more like a warning.
Four days. That's all we have.
I pick up the voice modulator again, turning it between my fingers.
"So," I say, quieter now.
"We keep prepping."
Shock looks over.
I meet her eyes through the mirror, then set the modulator down and reach for another wig.
"Alright," I say. "Disguise number two, then."
Shock blinks. Then she smiles.
Not as bright as before. But close enough.
"Ohhh, now you're speaking my language."
I roll my eyes. "Don't make it weird."
"Too late."
Tetra lets out a quiet laugh, though his eyes stay on his phone.
Remi leans back again, trying to act relaxed—but even he keeps glancing back at the group chat.
…
May 4, 2021. 15:22. Rome. 3 days left till the gala.
"Damn, how long does this usually take?"
I click my tongue and check my phone again since Dante disappeared into the church.
And no—it wasn't in some dramatic mafia way either.
He just quietly went in for confession and to speak with a priest.
Doesn't confession take like… I don't know… ten minutes max?
A sigh escapes me before I can help myself. It's been half an hour already.
All things considered, being left here in the city isn't so bad—especially when I'm dressed like a civilian. I've been enjoying my "free time" by taking pictures of Rome whenever I get the chance.
The church itself sits tucked into one of Rome's older sections—not Vatican City proper, but close enough that tourists still drift through the area in slow waves.
Midday sunlight spills across pale stone buildings and reflects off old windows. Bells ring somewhere in the distance while people move through the streets like they've got nowhere urgent to be.
I stand near the outer courtyard in civilian clothes again.
That's the idea anyway.
My eyes keep drifting back toward the church doors, almost expecting Dante to walk out any second.
But he doesn't.
While waiting, my mind starts coming up with all sorts of stupid ideas.
Does the Church have some kind of religious borg division somewhere? Cyber-knights? Vat-grown priests with mantis blades? Holy netrunners?
I pause, giving those thoughts actual consideration.
As ridiculous as it sounds… there's technically a non-zero chance some version of that exists.
Nahhh… maybe not. That sounds a little too silly, even for me.
I shrug the thought off.
Instead, I let myself people-watch.
Watching how people move. Studying fashion. Keeping myself casually alert for danger. Tourists. Locals. Students. Business people. Chic. Business. High fashion. Way less streetwear than North America.
I'm halfway through mentally rating someone's shoes when movement catches my eye.
It's not necessarily erratic, but it's not ordinary either.
Then I relax after confirming who it is. Dante's security team.
And if you didn't know what to look for, you'd miss them.
A couple sitting outside with coffee. A guy reading a newspaper. Someone leaning against a parked car. A man pretending to scroll on his phone.
Normal on the surface, sure.
But the tells are in the eyes—constantly moving, observing, checking corners and reflections whenever they can. Body posture that says they're relaxed while every muscle says otherwise.
Honestly, pretty good.
And of course, that's just the obvious layer.
Dante isn't stupid enough to rely only on visible security. Even broad daylight doesn't make him untouchable.
I adjust my jacket slightly and shift the way I'm sitting, blending in my own way.
If someone actually recognized him, there's a very low chance they'd try something here. Too many people. Too many cameras.
My phone buzzes.
Tetra.
I answer the call. "Hey. What's up?"
"Nothing," he responds. "You alive?"
Funny. Real funny.
"…That's your opener?" I stifle a laugh.
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
I shrug to myself. "I dunno. Maybe I do. What of it?"
A pause.
"Might have to talk to HR then." He chuckles. "Would that be Wissen or Dante?"
"Probably Wissen." I laugh quietly, then glance around again. "Actually, on that note—how's Wissen?"
It takes a few seconds before Tetra shifts back into a more serious tone.
"He's… doing fixer stuff."
Which means nothing and everything.
"Greatttt…" I lean back against the wall.
My thoughts trail off again.
Earlier, I asked Wissen if he'd consider allocating more resources toward helping Dante.
Of course, staying true to his word, he refused on the grounds of not overstepping Dante's authority and boundaries.
Dante refused too.
Apparently relying too heavily on a retiring fixer before becoming godfather would make him look weak.
Fair game in mafia politics, I guess.
Respect. Ego. Minimal support. Intelligence only. A massive dick-measuring contest in Europe. I still don't know if that's wise.
But I guess if Dante wins because someone else held his hand… then he loses anyway.
That's probably how they see it.
So Dante asked me to come.
Officially as company. Unofficially as a guard. Accompanying him while he meets contacts after confession.
Definitely not deals happening under stained glass.
Then, on Tetra's end, I hear movement.
"BRO WAIT HOLD STILL—" Remi's voice cuts in so hard I almost wince.
It's bad enough that I pull the phone away from my ear.
Tetra lowers his voice. "Dude, what are you doing?"
I exhale. "Let me guess… Remi?"
A faint smile pulls at my mouth as I turn and look farther down the street where Tetra should be.
And lo and behold… Tetra's standing there looking confused.
Remi's behind him.
Mimicking a mime.
The mime looks offended. Tourists are filming.
I close my eyes, resisting the urge to cringe.
No. No. Why.
Tetra notices me and raises both hands.
"I tried," he says into the phone.
Remi points dramatically, loud enough for half the street to hear.
"YOOOOO! THIS IS FIREEE!"
Nearby, a street musician starts laughing and hands Remi an accordion.
And in typical Remi fashion, he immediately starts trying.
Damn it. He's not bad at it either.
As much as I want to mock him, there's a level of respect I have for him just doing what he enjoys without caring.
It doesn't take long for people to gather. Phones come out. Then the noise and attention naturally follow.
Which actually helps the rest of us anyway. People stop watching everything else.
I sigh—not out of disappointment, but resignation and a tiny bit of respect.
"…You know what?"
Tetra looks over, eyebrow raised.
I shake my head. "Let him do his thing."
Remi grins while the musician joins in beside him, the accordion letting out bright, warm notes that bounce through the street. The melody's weirdly lively—fast enough to pull people in but relaxed enough that nobody feels rushed. People start clapping along. Someone tosses a coin into the musician's case.
Remi immediately commits.
"AYYYYY! I'll be here ALLL DAY, CHOOMS! Remi's the name, and making fire beats is the game—you can find my handle on—"
"God." I tune him out and go back to talking to Tetra, laughing despite myself. "This is so stupid."
"Maybe," Tetra says, chuckling too.
Then he glances toward the church doors before looking back at the crowd.
"…But stupid has its uses."
And annoyingly—he's right.
Between Remi stealing half the attention on the block and tourists crowding around him, nobody's paying attention to anything else.
Dante comes out a few minutes later.
And immediately, something feels off. It's nothing dramatic, but he looks extremely annoyed.
The expression's controlled like always, but there's something tighter around his eyes. The kind of tired that doesn't come from something as simple as lack of sleep.
His gaze finds me almost immediately.
I straighten a little and push off the wall.
"Yeah?" I look at him with my phone still in hand.
Tetra looks over my way too.
Remi's still halfway through becoming Rome's newest accordion celebrity when he catches our expressions and slowly lowers the instrument.
Dante walks over.
"Did something happen?" I ask.
"Yes." He exhales quietly, glancing briefly toward the church before looking back at me. "Several of my informants have disappeared."
My expression hardens.
Then Dante adds, "And someone attempted to breach Shock's devices a few minutes ago before pivoting through local networks to get to us."
"What?" My brows shoot up.
Dante nods once, folding his arms. "She stopped it, of course."
"…And?"
"She managed to identify the source… and it was the Cosa Nostra."
I stare.
"…That's bold. No?" Instinctively, I glance around before lowering my voice. "You guys are enemies, sure—but to attack us directly like that?"
Dante nods. "Yes. It seems they've finally decided to declare their intentions."
Then his expression darkens further.
"But that is not the main problem."
That gets my attention immediately.
"Oh?"
He continues.
"The gala security network also received an intrusion attempt. It succeeded."
My stomach drops. "I see…"
Silence settles over us for a moment. Even the street noise suddenly feels farther away.
I blink once. Then again.
"It… succeeded?"
Dante nods.
My mind immediately jumps.
Compromised security? Bad staff? Lazy contractors? Internal incompetence?
Before I can say anything, Dante cuts me off almost like he already knows where my thoughts are going.
"No." His tone sharpens slightly.
I blink.
He studies me for a second before continuing.
"If you are thinking they were incompetent or compromised, do not."
"Okay…?" I frown. "So what is it then?"
"The team responsible for the gala's security is experienced." His eyes narrow slightly. "The Neapolitan Camorra employs multiple netrunners and security specialists. Several of them are comparable to Shock in both training and cyberware."
"…Right."
He exhales. "And they still failed to identify the source."
That makes my stomach sink even worse. Because now the possibilities narrow.
"So…" I lower my voice so only he can hear. "They had help? An insider? Someone helped them?"
Dante nods once. "…Or whoever did it was genuinely better."
His expression doesn't change at all.
If anything, the only noticeable shift is his gaze—it's sharper than before as he stares out into the crowd.
Cold enough that even Remi, who'd been performing seconds ago, quietly hands the accordion back to the musician, wraps up his little show, thanks the crowd, and immediately rejoins Tetra.
The mood changes fast.
I look back at Dante. "So what now?"
He's quiet for a second.
Thinking. Calculating. Planning both his next move and ours.
Then he responds.
"I think someone is probing." His eyes move across the street. "Testing how we react. Testing response times."
I frown, glancing around, my eyes scanning for anyone watching us.
"Do you think this lines up with the weird behaviour in the underground market?"
Despite it only being Dante's guards, Remi and Tetra, and regular people walking through the street, I can't help but feel a little unnerved.
I continue anyway.
"Y'know… mercs leaving, contracts disappearing, all that stuff." I glance back at him. "And then some of the underbosses in the Camorra suddenly go quiet? None of this exactly feels… random."
My eyes flick down to my phone.
No messages in the group chat either, which somehow makes it worse.
Dante looks at me. Then toward the church. Then beyond it—past the old stone and the crowds, toward the rest of the city.
"Maybe… or perhaps someone wants us to believe it isn't random."
That earns a look from me. "So…" I trail off, not sure how to finish the thought.
"So, for now…" His eyes sharpen. "We continue as normal."
Something about that feels more ominous than if he'd told us to run.