May 2, 2021. 12:23. Rome. 5 days left till the gala.
"Arasaka's moving harder than expected."
That's the first thing Wissen says. No easing into it—just straight to the point.
We're all gathered in one of the safehouse's larger rooms, scattered around a long table that definitely looks more expensive than anything I should be casually leaning on.
Dante stands near the head of it, arms folded. Wissen sits beside him with a tablet open, eyes faintly lit as he scrolls through whatever his sources have sent him this time.
I cross my arms. "Define 'harder'."
"Crackdowns," Wissen says. "Raids, asset seizures, targeted disappearances. My sources are reporting increased Arasaka activity against Neo-Tanwir operations across Europe."
Tetra's brow furrows. "Right… which lines up with what you told us before."
"It does," Wissen replies. "Which means it's no longer just Michelangelo."
Remi leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "So what, the corps are cleaning house?"
"Or pretending to," Mister says.
Dante nods once. "That is not the only issue. I'd like to remind everyone that the Cosa Nostra has also begun moving against my family."
Shock's usual smile fades a little.
Dante continues. "Nothing open yet. At least, nothing they can be accused of directly. But pressure is building. Contacts are being tested, businesses are being approached, territories are being quietly challenged."
"So we've got Arasaka hunting Neo-Tanwir," I say, counting it out, "Cosa Nostra poking at the Camorra, and a gala in five days where a good chunk of the room might want you dead."
Remi whistles. "Shitttt, I knew this had layers, but I wasn't expecting the triforce."
"The tri-what?" I blink at Remi, confused.
"Y'know, like Legend of Zelda."
"I… never grew up playing that," I sheepishly admit.
"WHAT?!" Remi looks genuinely horrified.
Shock gasps dramatically. "Artie, oh my gossssh, you need to be like… educated… immediately. This is a cultural tragedy."
I shake my head and laugh, half-regretting opening my mouth.
Dante dryly cuts back in. "Aside from the pop culture reference, yes, Artemis, there's more than you know."
I glance between Wissen and Dante. "Then… shouldn't we be looking into both before they become our problem at the worst possible time?"
Wissen nods. "Yes, you read my mind."
Dante's gaze shifts toward me. "I'll handle the mafia side directly. There are people I need to speak with anyways."
"Ooooh~!" Shock perks up slightly, though not all the way. "Which means I'm going with you."
Dante gives her a look. "I assumed as much."
"Yaaasss! Loveeee being understood."
Mister tilts his helmet slightly. "I intended to investigate that angle as well."
Shock's eyes immediately snap to him, a grin forming like she's been waiting for this.
"C'moooon, Mr. Mister," she says, voice landing somewhere between playful teasing and a taunt. "I know you wanted to get some digs into the mafia. What better way than firsthand experience?"
She pauses before continuing.
Then she adds, sweeter, "Don't worry~! We'll keep you safe."
Mister does not react, at all.
"Hmmm," he says. "It would be useful to establish connections with your family. Fine. I'll join."
Shock deflates slightly. "Wow. Not even a little flustered?"
"No."
"Terrible. Boring. Helmet man is immune."
I snort.
Dante, somehow, looks like he's trying not to smile.
Tetra shifts in his seat. "So what about the rest of us?"
I tap my fingers against my arm. "Well, personally, I was thinking of exploring more tonight. Not the tourist side this time either. If the wacky Neo-Tanwir—or whatever you wanna call them—or anyone else for that matter, is moving around, there'll be signs somewhere. Sooo… probably the criminal underworld."
Remi sits up a bit. "I'm down."
I glance at him. "You… sure?"
"Yeah." His usual grin shows up, but there's something more serious under it this time. "Shopping trip was fun and shit, don't get me wrong. But if we're actually doing recon, I wanna see how our info plays out on the ground."
"You do realize we're potentially walking into crazy unknown territory?"
"And do you realize how much you need me?"
"How so?" I blink, confused.
Remi shrugs. "You don't even speak Italian."
"Okay, first of all, I do know a bit, thank you very much," I immediately shoot back. "Secondly, there are English speakers here that I know."
Remi grins wider. "Yeah, and at the end of the day it's still the fixers doing the talking."
He points toward Mister and Wissen.
Wissen raises a brow slightly.
I sigh. "Why do you even want in on this? Because if last night was anything to go off of, you're not exactly covert material."
"Aight, fair," Remi admits. "You've got a point." Then he shrugs. "But if shit goes bad, I can at least draw attention. Besides, what else am I gonna do anyways? Grab more shit on my own?"
That… actually isn't terrible logic.
Then he ruins it.
"Oh, and for the vibes." He snaps his fingers in realization. "Especially for the vibes."
"That was almost impressive until the end," I mutter.
"Still counted."
Tetra nods slowly. "I'll go too. If we're looking around the underside of the city, having another pair of eyes won't hurt, right?"
Wissen looks toward Mister. "And what do you want out of this?"
Mister pauses—not for long, but enough for us to tell he's calculating.
"I want to understand what kind of power survives here," he says. "Vancouver has its own rules, yes. But Italy appears cleaner and more structured, and that only means the violence is better dressed. If I'm going to build connections here, I need to understand how older systems maintain themselves."
Wissen smiles faintly. "A fixer's answer."
"A practical one," Mister replies.
Dante studies him for a moment, then nods. "Then you'll learn plenty."
Shock claps once. "Great! Mafia field trip for us. Spooky underground detective walk for you guys."
"Don't call it that," I say.
"That's literally what it is."
"It sounds stupid when you say it."
"That's because you hate joy."
Remi points at her. "She's got you there."
I glare at him.
He lowers his hand, still laughing. "My bad, choom."
Wissen stands, grabbing his tablet. "Then it's decided. Dante, Shock, and Mister will pursue the mafia angle. Artemis, Tetra, Remi, and I will look for signs of insurgent activity or anything unusual beneath the surface."
Dante adjusts his cuffs. "Alright then, let's begin. If anything happens, let us know as soon as possible."
Wissen gives him a small nod before preparing his things. "Of course."
Shock points at me as she starts backing toward the door. "Don't do anything fun without me~!"
"You're literally going to mafia meetings." I raise a brow.
"Exactlyyyyy. Boring adult stuff."
Remi grins. "Meanwhile, we're hitting the streets."
"Try not to get arrested," Mister says.
I glance at him. "That's my line."
Tetra lets out a quiet laugh as everyone begins splitting off.
…
May 2 2021, 18:42. Rome. 5 days left till the gala.
Rome's criminal underside is vastly different. At least, when it comes to how clean it is.
The city's still alive and polished—cars moving through narrow streets, voices drifting out from restaurants, well-dressed people walking back and forth from their ventures, all of that—but the energy shifts once Wissen takes us into the more hidden areas of the city.
Even the criminals here carry themselves differently compared to the rough, loud aesthetic of North America. Cleaner. Sharper. Elegant, even. Long coats, tailored suits, minimal chrome visible on the surface.
But underneath all that refinement, the tells are still there.
The stares that linger a little too long. Eyes automatically scanning exits. The subtle shift of someone checking your hands, posture, or waistline for weapons.
Mercenaries are mercenaries no matter the continent.
For Wissen, though, this all feels routine.
To the point where I've genuinely wondered how good of a tour guide he'd be.
He barely needs a GPS—not nowadays anyway—and in all the years I've known him, I can barely remember him ever stopping to check directions. Everywhere we've gone together, he already knows where everything is supposed to be.
And honestly? It's a little reassuring.
Remi notices it too.
"Damn," he mutters as we cut through another side street. "Old man's moving like he's been here for years."
Wissen chuckles softly ahead of us. "It's called 'experience.'"
"That's fixer code for being ancient," I add.
"I heard that." Wissen shoots me a small side-eye without slowing down.
"Good." I playfully stick my tongue out. "Was worried you wouldn't hear me."
Tetra laughs under his breath as we keep moving.
The deeper we go, the less obvious the route becomes. The nicer streets fade into older districts, and even those begin thinning out into quieter alleys tucked beneath aging architecture.
Eventually, Wissen leads us toward what looks like a half-forgotten building wedged between two older storefronts.
Nothing flashy at all. In fact, there aren't even any signs showing what the building is. At first glance, you'd think it was just another residential complex.
The only thing that makes it seem remotely interesting is a narrow stairwell descending beneath the structure.
Remi glances down it. "…This definitely looks legal."
"It isn't," Wissen replies casually.
When we head down, the air changes.
Cooler. Heavier. Tinged with smoke, alcohol, and old concrete.
Then the sound hits next—a mix of low music, voices, laughter, and most importantly, negotiations.
And then the space opens up.
Holy shit.
The underground stretches far deeper than I expected, sprawling beneath the city like an entire hidden district of its own.
What starts as one basement quickly branches into connected halls, lower levels, and side corridors that disappear beneath other parts of Rome.
It feels less like a single location and more like multiple underground venues stitched together beneath the city into something halfway between a lounge, marketplace, and information hub.
Mercs lean against dimly lit bars while brokers exchange data shards like poker chips. Fixers sit in quiet booths speaking in hushed tones while bodyguards linger nearby pretending not to listen. Old-world architecture clashes against modern holograms and cyberware glow.
And the second Wissen steps inside, the room notices.
Not in a loud way either—there's no gasping or hostility—but heads definitely turn.
A few people subtly straighten up while others nod once in acknowledgment. One merc near the bar immediately steps aside to clear a path without being asked.
Wissen barely reacts to any of it. He just keeps walking like this place belongs to him as much as anybody else.
"Hoooooly shit," Remi whispers beside me. "Is he like actually famous?"
"He's Wissen," I mutter back. "What did you expect?"
To be fair, I can't exactly blame him. That was basically my reaction too.
"Yeah, but like…" Remi gestures vaguely around the room. "This is aura."
I nod slightly. "Gotta remember, Wissen's probably the most connected fixer in the world."
Tetra glances around again, shoulders just slightly tense. "It's still kinda… impressive," he admits quietly. "I don't know... seeing this many people recognize him makes me feel a little exposed."
His eyes flick toward some of the nearby booths before returning to us.
"Usually we're more under the radar," he continues. "Except maybe Remi."
"HEY!" Remi protests, sounding a little salty.
Tetra lets out a small laugh despite himself. "You know what I mean."
I gently nudge his arm, just enough to pull him out of his own head.
"Hey," I murmur, tone lighter. "Relax. It's not that bad."
Wissen glances back at us, amused. "You'll be fine. Just stay close and follow me."
With that, he leads us deeper into the underground venue toward a quieter section tucked near the back. Semi-private booths line the walls here, shielded from most of the noise. The lighting dims further, casting soft amber glows across the table as Wissen settles into the area.
He gestures loosely toward all of us. "Get comfortable. This may take some time."
I quietly lean back into the booth.
There was a point years ago where finding out how many resources Wissen actually had at his disposal completely messed with my perception of him for a while. Corporations, governments, mercenary groups, criminal organizations—he'd spent decades building alliances and favors so deeply interconnected that killing him would probably trigger three separate political disasters before the week ended.
At some point, you stop viewing someone like that as untouchable and start viewing them as walking infrastructure.
Then he immediately gets to work.
Calls. Messages. Encrypted discussions.
Some people enter the booth briefly to hand over data shards before disappearing again. Others quietly exchange information with Wissen in multiple languages before slipping back into the crowd. One older fixer leans down to whisper something directly into Wissen's ear before leaving without even acknowledging us.
The exchanges happen so quickly that I practically struggle to keep up with the sheer amount of information Wissen juggles at once. Judging from their expressions, Remi and Tetra are equally lost.
Still, we do our best to at least look professional.
Well—Tetra and I do.
Remi spaces out multiple times before Tetra and I take turns nudging him back into reality.
Within the next hour or two, Wissen manages to pull enough strings that he's gathered information not just from Italy, but from across Europe while simultaneously repositioning agents and arranging future meetings for whatever comes next.
"That…" Wissen exhales quietly, finally setting his tablet down for a moment. "Was a lot. My apologies." His eyes glance between us. "To summarize: yes, Arasaka's moving fast. They're already applying patches for the implant virus, and containment appears to be their primary objective."
I lean back slightly. "So… damage control."
"Precisely."
He pulls up another screen on the tablet and turns it toward us.
"But that is not the real issue."
More files appear across the display—maps, transport routes, scattered reports.
"Whatever you want to call them—insurgents or remnants of a dead terrorist force—their presence here is significantly higher than we initially anticipated," Wissen continues. "Vancouver was one of their smaller-scale operations. Across the globe, it seems they're slowly amassing numbers."
He pauses briefly, carefully considering his next words.
"They are not operating openly, however," Wissen finishes. "They're embedded into the landscape itself."
Tetra frowns. "What do you mean?"
"They've been referred to as bandits, insurgents, local gangs, or militia groups." Wissen taps the screen lightly. "That's how corporations are labelling them publicly, anyway. Their title changes depending on who you ask, but they effectively behave the same way across the world."
His expression tightens slightly.
"From what I can gather, some refer to themselves as Tanwir survivors, while others simply use the term Neo-Tanwir."
He scrolls through another report.
"Beyond that, there's almost no public information regarding what their actual objective is besides inflicting as much damage against corporations as possible. In fact, each occurrence acts independently from the others, operating more like isolated cells." He pauses briefly. "Meaning each furthers its own agenda and interpretation of the movement while still loosely coordinating with the others."
My eyes narrow faintly.
"So… the virus… was simply one of their more unified efforts."
"Yes," Wissen replies quietly, and there's a certain frustration in his voice. Not directed at himself—he's too mellow for that—but at how messy and deeply embedded this entire situation has become.
Memories of Elias and the stupid virus flash incident through my head. Then the horrifying face of the cyberpsycho Mister and I ran into back in Burnaby.
All of that, only to be buried and covered up—wrapped neatly into whatever narrative the corporations wanted people to believe.
Europe really just does it cleaner.
Wissen continues scrolling through the reports.
"Most civilians here likely believe this is nothing more than increased organized crime and political instability." He pauses briefly. "Which, to be fair, is not entirely inaccurate."
Remi whistles softly. "That's… kinda insane."
"It's effective," Wissen replies. "On top of that, corporate aggression is increasing alongside mafia activity, both of which are now intersecting with Italian politics."
"Sounds… healthy," I mutter.
"If you define healthy based off of attacking several corporate transports across the continent, then yes, it is 'healthy'." He starts listing names off. "Kang Tao. Arasaka. Militech. Biotechnica especially."
Tetra's expression hardens slightly. "All of these guys are being targeted?"
"And more."
"Great…" Tetra exhales quietly. "I hope they don't drag us into their conflicts."
"Wouldn't bet on that just yet," I mutter.
"To make things more… complicated…" Wissen exhales quietly, setting the tablet down for a moment. "The Cosa Nostra is also aware that Dante has returned."
"Baam, icing on the cake, chooms." Remi gestures toward all of us before leaning forward slightly. "And these guys are already moving?"
"Yes, they are," Wissen replies. "Even before our arrival, they were testing territory and pushing boundaries."
He taps another report open.
"Smaller gangs that survived recent corporate crackdowns are shifting as well. Some are aligning themselves with larger factions. Others are exploiting the instability."
I cross my arms tighter. "So everybody's waiting for the first real punch."
"Exactly," Wissen says simply. "My guess is that everyone is waiting for the ideal moment to strike."
The booth goes quiet after that.
The only thing I can hear is the muffled bass of the music outside pounding faintly through the walls.
Tetra looks lost in thought, probably already trying to figure out what the best move is from here. Across from him, Remi opens his mouth like he's about to say something, only to stop halfway through when he realizes he has absolutely nothing useful to add.
Honestly? Same.
At this point, I'm almost certain shit's going to hit the fan soon. I just don't know what form it's going to take when it finally does.
Wissen's eyes drift across the data one last time before settling back on us.
"I don't know if they will act the night of the gala," he says calmly. "But it is best to prepare as though they will."
None of us argue with him.
At this point, it'd honestly be weirder if nobody tried something.
Tetra takes it all in as best he can, slowly nodding along with Wissen's explanation. He sighs, crossing his arms as his eyes scan the crowd outside our booth.
"So what you're saying," he says carefully, "is that every big player in the area is moving, which means the smaller ones are gonna move too? And on top of that… they're all getting pissed off at each other?"
Wissen nods once.
"In a nutshell, yes," he says simply. "Anyone with even a remote sense of intelligence will plan accordingly. Dante's return is that important. To the underworld, this is not simply a successor returning home. It represents a shift in power—older groups transitioning into a new age. With the Neapolitan Camorra gaining the railgun as leverage and showcasing their capability to acquire advanced military technology… news of that will not remain local. Their reputation—both Dante's and his family's—will ripple across Italy first, then outward through Europe and beyond."
He pauses briefly before continuing.
"And on that note, out of respect for Dante proving himself as a leader, I will not be assuming control here. I'll step back and provide intelligence where needed, nothing more."
My brows raise slightly. "So… we're literally just the grunts?"
Wissen lets out a quiet chuckle. "I would phrase it more elegantly than that." His eyes flick toward me. "But yes, you should follow Dante's orders carefully, especially on the night of the gala."
I lean back slightly at that.
Great. Love that for us.
"Yeah… makes sense," Tetra says quietly. "Honestly, I'm almost surprised nobody's tried anything already. Are we sure no one's going to make a move before the gala?"
Wissen gives a small approving nod.
"Your intuition is sound," he says. "I would be more surprised if nothing happened at all. In fact, the silence itself is telling. Usually, that indicates preparation rather than absence."
Remi lets out a low whistle. "Aight, so what—what are we supposed to do then? Walk around knocking on doors like 'yo, any gonks tryna start a war or what?'"
I exhale softly, thinking it through.
"On the Cosa Nostra side…" I begin slowly, "Dante, Mister, and Shock probably have that handled. They're already closer to that circle than we are." I cross my legs, my foot lightly tapping against the floor. "To me… it seems like the unaddressed issue is the wacky Neo-Tanwir side. They feel like a variable none of us have fully accounted for."
My expression tightens slightly.
"And… if Elias is any frame of reference… we shouldn't let him fade into just memory."
Remi leans back slightly, scratching the side of his head. "Okay, but like… how though? What're we even supposed to look for? Crazy dudes with anti-corp manifestos and trench coats again?"
I open my mouth to answer.
But then I stop.
…Honestly, I don't know. I doubt it'll be as easy as catching Elias.
Wissen steps in before the silence stretches too long.
"Getting a proper read on them will be difficult," he says calmly. "But Artemis brings up a good point. Everyone should continue looking into them wherever possible."
He folds his hands together loosely.
"I will continue gathering intelligence through my own channels as usual. However, I urge all of you to do your own digging if opportunities present themselves."
That makes the booth go quiet again.
Tetra leans back slightly, arms crossed as he disappears into thought. Across from him, Remi stares down at the table for a second before exhaling through his nose.
"I dunno what I'm gonna do yet," he mutters. "But fuck it. I'll cook something."
"Somehow that statement worries me," I mutter.
He points at me immediately. "Nah, trust the process."
I shake my head, though internally I'm already trying to think through my own options.
Connections? Nope. Contacts? None related to my merc side. Equipment? I literally only brought a few suitcases, not my entire armoury.
Fuck. I've got nothing.
Tetra stays silent beside me, his expression unreadable as the muffled music outside keeps pounding against the booth walls.
Beyond us, people continue negotiating, laughing, exchanging favours, and living their lives like the continent isn't quietly shifting beneath their feet.