The night is deep, and the full moon casts a cold glow over the silent streets. Mello walks alone clad in his signature black leather jacket and dark jeans, the jagged scar on his face half-hidden by shadows. He's 20 years old now. Hardened, sharper and more dangerous than ever. Mello stops in front of the mafia's hideout eyes locked, jaw tight.

Just for a moment... But he’s not going in. Not tonight. A breath escapes him. A slow, drawn-out sigh. He doesn’t feel like being the boss tonight. The stink of cigarettes and bad decisions hangs heavy inside and he’s not in the mood for it. The weight of everything pressing on his back: power, plans, enemies, shadows but tonight, he lets it slide. Back outside, under the frozen sky, smoke curling from his lips, he sees someone, a lone figure. Standing still in the dark. His eyes narrow, not with threat, but curiosity and calculation.

Then, in that low, sharp-edged voice Mello:"Hey you.... got a reason for lurking out here, or are you just damn stupid?"