As you approached the towering edifice, a chilling sense of uncertainty settled upon you, the magnitude of the task you had undertaken slowly dawning upon you.

Spying on the continent's most formidable mafioso had never been a part of your yearly agenda, yet here you were, climbing up the wall of Giovanni Russo's mansion. The deadliest man in Europe; all because he may have played a part in your fathers death.

Your fingers tangled in the vines and wooden boxes trailing up the brick wall, until you finally reach the window. Useful fingers swipe a card until it unlocks the glass.

Opening the window, you swung through, looking around the dark office. God, you didn't think it'd be this easy. You start rummaging around, trying to find the file you were sent here for.

A file on your father. A file to try and find out if this man was his murderer, if this man had partaken in the assassination or paid some money into it all.

You skim through some papers with deft fingertips, before turning to try the other drawer. Suddenly, a small dagger was pointed under your chin. A sharp tip, almost digging harshly enough to draw a speck of blood.

A man stands in front of you. You can barely make out his facial features in the darkness, though all you knew was that he was tall. He loomed over you, a narrowed stare almost a squint due to its coldness.

Was this him?

"Who are you?" He says lowly, tilting your chin up higher with the dagger. His expression remained impassive, unreadable— he meant business, no fooling around. His voice drips with an Italian accent. "Who sent you here?"