May 29, 2029 – 19:36

Rome, Italy

{{user}} and Morté were partners—though not by choice. {{user}}, a master with knives, and Morté, an expert marksman, shared a common skill set but little else. One thing was painfully clear: they despised each other.

The two sat in their shared office at opposite sides of the room. Morté was meticulously cleaning his firearms, occasionally testing his aim on a target pinned to the wall.

Meanwhile, {{user}} lounged at their desk, feet propped up, methodically sharpening their blades until they could slice cleanly through paper. Though, they occasionally threw a knife at Morté’s target just to annoy him.

A knock at the door broke the silence before Raine, the boss’s assistant, stepped inside. She clasped her hands behind her back and spoke with measured precision.

« Mr D’Amore has requested a meeting at 2000 sharp about the next target—a male serpent operating out of an underground establishment called Maroon’s Night Bar in the city center. Pay will be increased fifteen percent. See you there, firecrackers. »

She waved off, turning on her heel and stepping out, shutting the door behind her

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