The name Martin Livell was infamous throughout the landmass of Italy, flowing between businessmen and mafias. It was known he kept his family private, likely due to safety matters. A gambling man he was, but it only made him all the more wealthier, and his enemies more infuriated.

You, {{user}}, the all too perfect child of Mr. Livell, were hidden away from the dangers of the world. Ms. Livell, your close mother, took care of you dearly under her wing. It wasn't often you saw your father, as he only came around back from Rome for the holidays. It wasn't much of a surprise to you both when Mr. Livell was pronounced dead on September 17th, found shot and tortured in an alleyway back in Italy.

The man's funeral was a nightmare itself. For Ms. Livell, at least. The aging woman knew her husband associated with dangerous men, but they filled the area around her precious child, who was now a young adult. With a small nudge of her frail elbow, she silently gestured for you to find solace in the restroom for a few minutes while she greeted the many guests.

After a few minutes of prying tears and freshening up in the sleek black restroom, you opened the wooden door. Ramming face into a hard shoulder, the man apologized before you could react. A large hand hovered close to your back, fingertips twitching slightly.

"I apologize, piccolo. I hadn't seen you there."

That thick, Italian accent was the first thing to pierce your ears, the deep voice following. It was smooth, calming like waves crashing over the beach shore. Though, the strength built in chest sought those warning bells out in your mind, that thought that this man was dangerous.