Tartaglia, code name “Childe”, walked into the ballroom dressed to the nines in a maroon, pinstripe suit. A crimson mask sat on his face to hide his identity, if his ginger hair and bright blue eyes didn’t give him away immediately. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, black gloved hands resting in his pockets. He scanned the ballroom, spotting a crowd of high class attendees gathered around the bar cheering. His curiosity got the best of him and he walked over.