April 30, 2021. 21:47. Milan.
"Hey, Rocker-boy," I whisper, nudging Remi's shoulder as I stand. "We landed."
He groans, cracking one eye open before the other. "Shit, choom… already?" His voice is thick with sleep as he stretches in his seat, joints popping, arms lifting overhead like he's trying to shake off the last few hours.
Since our flight, the cabin lights have shifted to a soft, calm hue—dim enough to match the late hour, but bright enough to ease us awake.
Remi rubs at his eyes, blinking blearily at the time glowing on the panel in front of him. "21:47… damn. We've been in the air for nearly ten hours?"
"Uh, no," I say, adjusting my outfit. "We landed earlier. It's just that Dante and Wissen had to make some calls."
He straightens a bit at that. "Wait—shit. Did I miss anything important?"
"Ehhh…" I tilt my head, half-smiling. "Yeah. But we can fill you in outside."
Shock stretches beside us, arms up, hair completely wrecked, but her grin is as bright as ever. "Ciaooo~! Rise and shine, Remi!"
Remi snorts, still waking up, but curiosity gets the better of him. He leans toward the window, and I shift aside to give him space.
Then he freezes. And we both look out.
Even though I've already seen it, it still hasn't fully settled in.
It's nothing like Vancouver's jagged skyline of neon and smoke.
Out there, the city stretches in clean lines and quiet confidence—glass and steel woven seamlessly into history. Terracotta rooftops, marble facades, cathedral spires catching the last gold of the evening light. Roads cut through the city in deliberate patterns, lined with real greenery—not synthetic or artificial, but alive.
I can barely see a haze; in fact, I don't even think there is one. There's no industrial smog muting the horizon, either. It's just clear.
Domes and towers rise beside modern corporate structures, solar canopies resting gracefully atop centuries-old architecture—Roman, Renaissance, Baroque. Old and new sit side by side without fighting for space. History layered with just enough corporate polish to remind you what era you're in.
It isn't loud, either—it doesn't scream for attention. It's more like an elegant showing of how it survived multiple years while the rest of the world went to shit.
And for a moment, I forget why we're here—just for a second.
Across from us, Tetra's already been staring out for a while. He nods faintly, voice softer than usual. "It's… peaceful. Real peaceful."
I crack a small smile, glancing between them. "Yeah… don't get too comfy," I say lightly. "We're not exactly here on vacation."
"Yeah, yeah…" Remi mutters, though his eyes linger on the skyline a little longer.
None of us can help it.
Behind us, Mister's already in motion. He shakes hands with Wissen and Dante. "Thank you for the information. We'll keep you informed should anything affect the mission."
His helmet tilts slightly as he glances back toward us, then returns his attention to them. "I'd also suggest a day of rest. It looks like we could all use time to adjust."
"Of course," Wissen replies with a nod. "Feel free to take any essential gear with you. The rest will be transferred to your accommodations."
That's my cue.
I sling a bag of my gear over my shoulder and make my way toward the exit, boots clicking softly against the cabin floor. The door's already open, cool night air slipping in—clean, crisp, different.
I glance back at the others. "I'm heading out. Try not to get lost, yeah?"
Shock waves lazily. "No promises~!"
Remi gives me a half-salute. "Lead the way, boss."
The moment I step off the plane, the world quiets.
Private hangars stretch low and wide under pale lighting. No crowds. No chaos. Just open space and distant engine hums fading into the night.
I take a slow breath. Yeah. Feels about right.
Behind me, I hear movement—Tetra and Mister following, boots hitting metal, then concrete.
Tetra exhales the second his feet touch the ground. "A day to look around would be a good idea," he says, grinning slightly. "Don't know how much rest that'll include, though."
He sidles past Mister and follows me, eager, like he's been holding that energy in for hours.
I glance back at him, a small smile slipping through before I can stop it. "Welcome to Italy."
Before he can respond, I hear Shock call out, "Artemis!"
I turn slightly, just in time to catch her spinning toward me, already mid-complaint.
"Heyyy, no fairrr! I wanted to be the one to introduce everyone to Italy!" she huffs dramatically, loud enough for everyone to hear. "God, she doesn't even go here."
I blink once—confused, then amused. My eyes roll before I can stop them. "Oops," I chuckle.
Shock gasps, clutching her chest like I've personally betrayed her. "Wow. Betrayal. In Europe too? I expected better from you, babe."
Behind us, still in the plane, Dante calls out, "Shock, a word, please."
"Whateverrr," she sighs, flipping her hair as she brushes past me. "I would show you guys around, but it looks like I'm all work and no play for now. I'll catch up with y'all later."
At the last second, she leans in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to keep it playful. "Don't have too much fun without me. That's my job."
Then she pivots back to Dante. "Alright! Your word is hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia!" she beams. "Fear of long words. Which is, like, super ironic."
I stare at her, mouth slightly open, unsure what to even say.
She just grins—mischievous, unapologetic.
And without another word, she slips back to Dante's side like nothing happened, hands clasped behind her back, waiting—as if she hadn't just completely derailed the moment.
This girl.
I stifle a laugh, then let it slip anyway, my attention drifting forward.
That's when I see them. Dozens.
Men in black suits stand along the perimeter, spaced with precision. Not random. Not casual. Just disciplined—or at least, they appear to be.
Some of them don't even bother hiding it—chrome running along their knuckles, wrists, even parts of their faces catching the light. Subtle, but unmistakable.
Every single one of them is armed. Rifles. Submachine guns. Clean, well-maintained. Ready.
Beyond them, a line of black vehicles waits in formation.
Four-door sedans. A few SUVs. All armored. Heavy frames, reinforced dark glass, thick tires—the kind of vehicles that wouldn't stop for many obstacles.
Actually, the kind that go through them.
Man, I definitely need to upgrade my babies when I'm home.
"Back on… familiar grounds?"
The voice catches me off guard.
Mister.
I glance back at him, just in time to catch the slight hitch in his tone—like even he didn't expect himself to ask that.
My response doesn't come quickly. I take a moment to scan the scene once more before answering.
"In a sense, yeah."
That's all he gets.
I step fully off the landing and move toward the cargo area, already looking for my things.
"I'll grab my stuff!" I call over my shoulder.
Behind me, I hear Tetra pick up pace. He takes in the entourage, wary of everyone.
And I don't blame him.
New place. New players. No idea who's who yet.
He jogs down the steps after me, clearly glad to be back on solid ground.
"Here, I'll help," he says. "I don't have much stuff—got an extra hand."
I blink, a little surprised. "Uh… sure."
He probably didn't expect this much.
Suitcases. Gear cases. Kits. Everything I might need, packed and ready.
I crouch slightly, grabbing one handle and sliding it down.
Wissen steps off the plane a moment later, his coat shifting slightly with the breeze as his eyes sweep the perimeter.
"Alright, everyone," he says, voice calm but carrying easily. "As nice as the view is, let's not linger. Vehicles are ready—please, head inside. We'll be heading to one of Dante's properties on the outskirts."
"Not to be that person," I say, glancing toward him as I adjust the strap on my bag, "but we did check for bugs, right?"
Wissen doesn't miss a beat. "Of course. It's fully secured. You'll have privacy."
Good enough.
Remi finally steps out behind us, stretching his back with an exaggerated groan. "Aighttt, chooms… let's get this shi on." He rolls his shoulders, then looks around at the lineup of vehicles. "So where's my ride, huh? Don't tell me I'm not getting VIP treatment."
That earns a small chuckle out of me before I can stop it.
Mister lingers a step behind the rest of us. He pauses at the edge of the tarmac, helmet tilted slightly upward as he looks back at the open sky—like he's measuring something invisible.
Then, just as quietly, he turns away, grabbing his gear from a suitcase of his own. He moves toward the lead armored SUV, approaching the driver with a calm, deliberate pace.
"Evening," he says evenly, attempting conversation.
The driver barely acknowledges him. A short glance. Nothing more.
Okay… not the talkative type.
Mister doesn't push it—just notes it and moves on, stepping into the SUV.
Behind me, Tetra slings his bag over his shoulder and grabs one of my heavier suitcases without hesitation, dragging it toward us.
Wissen and I follow, my boots scraping softly against the concrete as I close the distance and step inside.
Once everything's loaded, Tetra climbs in with us, glancing around through the tinted windows.
It's spacious—built to carry eight comfortably, with reinforced seating lining both sides and enough room to move without feeling cramped.
"VIP treatment, huh?" Tetra muses. "This is one hell of a welcome."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," I say, nudging him lightly before settling into my seat. "I'm pretty sure it's only going to get worse from here on."
He laughs, settling beside me. "Yeah, I've figured that out by now. Nothing stays normal for long." He shakes his head, half baffled, half amused. "How long do you think it'll be before shit hits the fan this time? A day?"
"Hmmm…" I tap my finger against my chin, thinking. "Maybe two… at best."
Outside, Remi snorts. "Two? Shi, choom, you're optimistic today."
He's still lingering out there, looking around for something. I don't pay him much attention—I just shut the door with a heavy thud.
Around us, the rest of the team filters into their vehicles. Engines hum to life almost in unison.
"Instead of waiting for it to hit the fan," Mister says as he slides into a seat across from us, "let's rule out some possible complications."
My attention shifts to him.
"I've already made contact with some of my connections," he continues. "A mercenary associate who can provide additional firepower, and an officer who can help us monitor mafia movements."
"Oh?" I ask. "Do tell."
"A blessing and a curse," he adds calmly, "is that the police and the mafia operate in a… symbiotic relationship. We won't be stopped often by law enforcement—but neither will our opposition."
Makes sense.
Shock did mention earlier that Italy had a lot of corruption—it's just far more organized.
Mister's helmet tilts slightly as he continues.
"We'll need to consult Shock or Dante regarding who's most likely to act against them. There's no doubt our arrival is already circulating through their information networks."
"Yeah. Probably," I say. "I'm pretty sure we got clocked the moment we landed."
I lean back into the seat, watching the rest of the bodyguards move into the SUVs. I rest my arm against the door, eyes half-lidded.
Two days. Yeah, sounds about right.
Just as I settle into my seat, something cuts through the low hum of engines outside.
At first, it's faint shouting—but then it gets louder, multiple voices yelling something I can't quite understand.
Then I hear the revving of a bike.
Curious, I glance toward the window—and immediately groan.
Outside, under the hangar lights, he's already mounted on a bike—where the hell he even got it from, I don't know—and is now pulling a clean wheelie across the open space.
"HOLY SHITTTT—"
The bike tilts too far.
For a split second, I think he's about to eat concrete—but he recovers, swerving just enough to narrowly avoid one of the parked cars before pulling another stupid trick that nearly sends him sliding sideways.
Then he speeds off a short distance like nothing happened.
"Fucking Remi…" I mutter, pressing my fingers against my temple. "Yeah. We're definitely not making it two days."
Wissen, of all people, looks incredibly amused. He actually opens the SUV door, leaning out slightly. "Remi," he calls, voice still composed despite everything, "perhaps ease off the theatrics."
Meanwhile, I'm trying—really trying—not to laugh.
The whiplash is insane.
One second: armed escorts, mafia territory, high-stakes mission. Next: this idiot doing stunts in a secured compound.
I'm not sure whether I want to strangle him or let him keep going.
Tetra, sitting across from me, just stares out the window, completely at a loss for words.
Mister shakes his head slowly. "Please try not to damage yourself before the mission, Remi."
Remi pulls up closer this time, rolling to a stop just outside the vehicle. The smirk on his face is impossible to miss.
"Nahhh, I won't, choom. Lemme just get my biker's high in—"
"Sorry, what was that about a damaged bike literally a few days ago?" I cut in.
He pauses.
"…Mannnn… fuck you."
"Sorry," I chuckle, leaning back slightly. "Too soon?"
"A little…" He exhales, shaking his head as he swings a leg off the bike. "But touché."
Mister lifts a hand, rubbing the side of his helmet like he's trying to soothe a headache that isn't physically there. "Yes, yes, enough with the flirting. Remi, are you joining this SUV or riding alongside us?"
"Hm…" Remi actually takes a moment to consider it. Of course he is.
"I would recommend riding with everyone," Wissen cuts in smoothly. "It's better that you limit your exposed association with Dante. These windows are tinted—and the ride will be long."
Remi grimaces slightly. "Man… fine."
He gives the bike one last pat—like it personally offended him—before heading toward us.
A minute later, the door opens and he climbs in, still carrying that same restless energy with him. It doesn't take him long to settle into his seat, still half-turned like he's not done complaining.
"Aight, real question though—" he starts.
"And here we go," I cut him off, sarcasm clear in my voice. "What's next—"
"HEY! It's an actual question, choom!" He throws me a middle finger, a faintly salty look on his face that only makes me break into a slight giggle—almost like a schoolgirl.
Tetra chuckles and lightly nudges me as I start to lose it. "Alright, let him talk."
"Fine, fine~" I shrug playfully, a teasing smile tugging at my lips—clearly not taking any of this seriously.
"THANK YOU, TETRA!" Remi exasperates before turning to Wissen. "Anyways—Wissen, what do you mean the 'ride will be long'?" He pauses, like he's piecing it together mid-thought. "Isn't the place we actually need to go to, like… right there?"
"We landed here intentionally," Wissen says calmly. "Milan is our visible entry point."
Remi squints. "Respectfully, choom—the hell does that mean?"
"Meaning anyone tracking official flight logs, air traffic, or corporate movement will assume this is our destination," Wissen continues. "If we had landed directly in Rome, it would significantly narrow the number of viable targets."
"Hmm…" I nod slightly. "I figured that was the case."
Remi leans forward, still not fully convinced. "I'm not following."
"I'll elaborate further," Wissen adds. "Landing in Milan gives us a wider margin of safety. It's a larger entry point into the country—more flights, more traffic, more overlapping movements."
He pauses briefly before continuing.
"If we had landed directly in Rome, anyone waiting for us would've had fewer variables to work with—resulting in a much smaller window to identify which aircraft belongs to Dante. By the time anyone narrows it down, we're already out of the city."
"Yeah, but… if Dante needs to get back to Rome anyway," Remi says, tilting his head, still not fully convinced, "wouldn't someone just block the routes and shit going in? Like—highways, checkpoints, all that?"
Mister speaks up this time, piecing it together quickly.
"To effectively block access to Rome, they'd need coordination across multiple jurisdictions—law enforcement, private security, possibly even corporate oversight," he says. "That kind of mobilization is difficult to carry out quietly."
"Precisely. Well done," Wissen says with a small nod. "And if they attempt it openly, they expose themselves. Roadblocks, sudden patrol shifts, unusual traffic control—it draws attention—not just from us, but from other factions, authorities, and competitors."
I glance out the window briefly before adding my own piece. "Yeah… and if they do that, they risk revealing their intent before they're ready to act."
"On top of that," Wissen finishes, "we are not limited to a single route. There are dozens of viable paths into Rome—ground, air, and otherwise. Attempting to seal all of them at once would be inefficient… and highly visible."
Remi leans back, processing.
"…And that shit's unlikely," he says after a second. "Yeah, that's kinda smart."
Then his phone buzzes.
So does mine.
Shock's text pops up in the group chat, bright and loud even without seeing her.
"I might finish up with work early, y'all, 'cause I'm just that bitch," she texts, following it up with three confetti emojis in a row.
She doesn't even pause.
"But I'm hitting the town for a makeover~!"
Another message comes in almost immediately, her tone somehow even more dramatic.
"What's our rooming situation like for later? Please, please, PLEASE—I call dibs on bunking with Artie." A second later, she sends a kissing face emoji.
I groan out loud. Then immediately start laughing.
"For fuck's sake…" I mutter. "Fine."
I type my response in, voice dry even as I say it aloud. "I guess…" Then I add an eyeroll emoji and send it.
Across from me, Tetra laughs, shaking his head. "She's not that bad of a roommate, don't worry about it." He leans back, adding his own message into the chat, "Have fun."
Another notification.
"OMG—@TETRA, YOU'RE INVITED TOO!!!" Shock texts. "I thought our bond went beyond words, king. I guess I'm not shawty bae… just fam." She follows it up with a sad face emoticon.
Mister lets out a quiet chuckle as he types into the chat. "Don't make Artemis work more than she needs to."
Tetra laughs again, then glances toward him, resting his arm along the back of the seat. "By the way, do you have contacts here in Italy too?"
"Some." Mister shifts his attention to him. "Most of my work is centered in Vancouver, though."
"Huh," Tetra replies. "Didn't realize you worked internationally."
Mister gives a small nod. "It never hurts to maintain international connections for moments such as this."
He pauses briefly, then shifts his posture before sending another message.
"@Shock — Do you have any guesses as to who in your familia disapproves of Dante being the next godfather?"
Shock responds almost instantly.
"Well, I know for sure me and my direct family don't disapprove, lol. If I remember right, most of them actually do—since they don't think he's fit to be boss."
A brief pause.
"Secrets behind closed doors and all that, ya know. But I do know who's smart enough to not care—or just ally with us. I'm actually heading out soon to meet one of them."
Mister nods slightly as he types.
"Thank you for the update. Please keep us posted—just so we don't have to be overly cautious with everyone we meet."
Another message from Shock pops up almost immediately.
"Tell you what—if you foot the bill for my makeover, I might suddenly remember more information~!"
I snort quietly. Of course.
Right on cue, the door opens again.
Dante steps in, expression composed but slightly apologetic. "Apologies for the delay. We'll be moving now. Shock will rejoin us later."
For a moment, none of us respond.
Wissen simply nods. "Welcome back."
Dante gives a small acknowledgment before shutting the door.
And this time, it stays shut.
Seconds later, the convoy begins to move.
We roll out from the private hangar in tight formation, the jet disappearing behind us as the gates slide open and release us onto smooth, empty roads.
Clean pavement. Soft lighting. A distant city glow stretching along the horizon.
The vehicles merge seamlessly onto a larger roadway, tightening formation as speed picks up before transitioning onto the highway. City lights smear into streaks across the tinted glass as we leave Milan behind, the road ahead stretching forward—pulling us steadily toward Rome.
For a brief stretch, there's something almost peaceful about it—the quiet, the rhythm of motion, the stillness of the night.
But underneath that calm, there's lingering tension.
The kind that tells me the next few days aren't going to stay quiet for long.