---Provence's point of view---

  It was a dim and sunless day as miserable as the life of the people living in Siracusa, Provence thought.

  She was on the last level of a seven-storey building, bedecked in a dark-grey tactical outfit. The large rented penthouse she was in was bathed in darkness. It's many wide windows giving her an ample view of the manor and the surrounding area.

  She was listening in to the local coms, as well as the radio while she waited. Her own meepoo shuffling around at a slow pace in guard mode. She was gently caressing Grapes head as he stood diligently by her side.

  She had just made a round by all the windows to inspect the streets, and all was calm. A normal day as it could be in Siracusa. Though she could feel a tension in the air given by the crowds walking down below her. The common people were anxious she thought. The position of the new minister would be handed not too far today.

  The radio tuned into the official broadcast as the morning struck eight in the morning.

  -''Buongiorno, my dear friends and citizens.'' The voice on the radio changed to that of Ministro Rubio as the government broadcast had officially started.

  -I imagine most of you don't know much about me, and I can't blame you for that.

  -After all, I held the very minor and unimportant role of Segretario di Sicurezza Alimentare before this.

  -In fact, I believe that most of our dear citizens, apart from the late Ministro Carracci and the honorable Judge Lavinia, know very little about our government.

  -I do not know Judge Lavinia very well, but I do have somewhat of a history with the late Ministro Carracci.

  -I believe it would be appropriate to begin my speech with him, a figure everyone here should already be familiar with.

  -Carracci and I both joined L'Autorita Garante della Concorrenza e del Mercato around the same time.

  Provence continued to listen in to the broadcast playing in the background as she walked over the room. She sat down onto a chair that was of an old style and comfort that she seldom experienced as a catastrophe messenger. Picking up the smooth new weapon that Cassiel had personally procured and gifted her. Mister Grape, as ever, by her side. Alert, but calm.

  It was a superior weapon. Amazingly expensive, and frightfully silent as it was deadly. A rare and hard to procure Shakuvin SKVn Ursian sniper rifle. Few in number as it barely entered limited production. Being usually issued to Ursian special forces and cells within the Ursian Ministry of Internal Affairs.

  Intended for special operations, this rifle could penetrate even those clad in heavy body armour since it made use of the more dedicated 7.62×54mm rifle cartridge. A beautiful and modern weapon, this version having included the suppressor end length barrel. A unique rifle as the user could switch between semi-automatic and bolt action through an ingenious new design.

  Basically giving its wielder the option to use it as a fast shooting marksman rifle at closer ranges when needed. It was a magazine-fed designated sniper rifle, chambered for fully powered cartridges. Made from durable, treated stamped steel, and unique lightweight polymer materials. To which details remained a secret of the Kalshavok Consortium, the largest weapons manufacturer in Ursus.

  She knew what this meant. He had always taken care of her, however this was a level above all else. She knew Cassiel had a fondness and respect for weaponry. So for him to go to the lengths and difficulties to procure such a unique and hard to obtain rifle, only to gift it to her meant something special. It was akin to giving a cherished family heirloom to her as a marriage proposal. It was his ultimate sign of trust that he could still give at this point in their relationship.

  He was passionate about his weapons. And somewhat strict with himself and all the others when it came to their proper handling and care. But he was patient with her in all those weeks that he personally trained her. Going through every drill. Helping her memorise every component. Lending even his own personal rifle for her to train with even before that.

  He could have kept this new weapon. She knew how much he wanted it for a long time. But when he entrusted her with it, she saw no hesitation in his pose, no regret in his deepest of blue eyes.

  She had picked it up, feeling it as natural as a second part of herself. Having trained judiciously with it and coming to know it very well. It was light, and felt smooth to the touch. Provence now handled it with an innate finesse and mastery. He had known this weapon would serve her well, and she accepted his gift, putting aside her crossbow, at least for now. She fiddled with it, making sure all her adjustments were as she left them.

  Despite being a superior sniper rifle it was also a versatile weapon. Able to be used even at close or intermediate ranges. The rifle was a combination of many advantages, where it was accurate enough to pick off targets at a distance as far as 1200 metres. But having the rate of fire where it could handle multiple targets, or where suppressive fire might be needed.

  A weapon adaptable to any situation, just like her. Cassiel was mindful like that. She realised he knew this weapon fitted her well. This gift was his intention to ensure she would live, that she would have the teeth to safeguard her life and remain by her partner.

  Her furry wolf ears became sharper as her focus reverted to the radio. Something was amiss she realised. The speech was unbecoming and cocky of a new ministro who valued his life. The radio continued to transmit unabatedly the curious speech of Ministro Rubio.

  -But Carraci was different. Not only did he not give in, he was always looking for ways to fight against them. And, his efforts paid off.

  -He did not die as easily as I thought he would, and he even managed to climb higher.

  -And when we met again at a banquet, he said something that I will never forget:

  -'The famiglie these days are weak.'

  -He showed me how to deal with the famiglie in a comically simple way.

  -He offered them goods they couldn't refuse. Benefits.

  -It's not as if the famiglie couldn't take what he had.

  -But what they always lacked was a great manager. They only knew how to plunder, but never actually learned how to govern.

  -Relying on his outstanding abilities, he gradually became a celebrity to several prominent famiglie.

  -And when they fought over who would fill the role of Ministro dei Lavori Pubblici, he became the candidate that everyone was happy with.

  -Having said all this, I'm sure a lot of you will have questions.

  -You might think Carracci sounds like a guy who played both sides.

  -But what I'd like to say is, in a country like Siracusa, a country rooted in evil, it has never been possible for a good person to exist.

  -To put it mildly, we are all evil.

  -Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have said all that depressing stuff.

  -However, it should be clear to everyone by now that I'm not here to give an inaugural speech.

  ''That's been obvious by some time now. But what in Terra are you thinking by risking your life like this!?'' Provence thought.

  -I came here to speak from my heart.

  The answer that came silenced her thoughts. To brave ahead something like certain death just to make sure the people of Siracusa would hear truths often buried by fear and terror... it was beyond reckless and stupid... it was courageous. And showed what a valorous man Rubio truly was.

  She once again perused by every window. Keeping tabs on the situation outside as the moment of their operation was soon to commence. She continued to listen to the radio as she stalked.

  -Carracci, as bold as his vision was, never mentioned anything to me about his outlook regarding the new city.

  -The reason for that is, when he took his position, he was already prepared to die.

  -We've all borne withness to what he did over the past two years.

  -And just when I thought he might make it long enough to see the birth of the new city, he suddenly died a few days ago.

  -As for me, that was the last straw.

  -So, I cozied up to Famiglia Bellone, recommended myself to them, and obtained this position.

  -In that process, I discovered a shocking conspiracy the Bellone and Saluzzo famiglie have been brewing.

  -From the very beginning, they plotted to plunge this city into chaos and seize the newly-built nomadic city.

  -Then, they will seek to leverage it against Signora Sicilia.

  A sudden, powerful noise was heard as if a great deal of wooden furniture was smashed.

  -''Alright... I guess I can't keep you out, if you really want to come in.'' The voice of Rubio was heard. Calm as ever as if his life was never in any imminent danger.

  -''You're an idiot.'' A different voice came from the radio speaker.

  -What's the point of all this?

  -The way you're dressed... Are you an ordinary worker?

  -I work at a carwash. It's called 'Auto Lavaggio Danbrown.'

  -Oh, that rings a bell.

  -Yes.

  -So, you must be Danbrown then?

  -That's me.

  -Do you have any particular concerns about your job?

  -No. Siracusa's gotten soggy and stale. I've had nothing to do, so I found some work for myself.

  -''That's a shame. You should've looked a little harder.'' Rubio spoke before he slightly changed his tone.

  -You arrogant wise guys think you can lord over us forever.

  -You think your only enemies are each other, you never take any of us seriously.

  -But, the times are changing. Nothing stays the same forever.

  -''No matter how nice your words might sound, they're just words.'' Spoke the opposite voice of the hitman before he continued.

  -Can words overthrow the famiglie, or Signora Sicilia?

  -''No, but I've taken this one-in-a-lifetime opportunity and said what I needed to say.'' Answered the voice of Rubio.

  -As for who'll win between the Bellones and Signora Sicilia, I don't know, or care.

  -All I know is this new era has no room for the likes of you.

  -If the next chapter of Siracusan history is about to be written, the heroes of that story won't be the famiglie.

  -We may have no power. We may indeed be weak.

  -But we know that civilization rose to overcome this savagery.

  -We pursue a form of equality, an order not rooted in violence.

  -''Violence is in our nature.'' Answered the hitman's voice.

  -Really now? Why then, are all the famiglie moving in the same direction?

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  -Why are they chasing money and power instead of violence and conflict?

  -Is killing me today just a cathartic release of this violence?

  -Or is it because... I got in the way of the people behind you taking power?

  -...

  -See, you already know the answer.

  -And, if you don't mind, I'd like to be the one to finish myself off. Do you know what this is?

  -''A gun?'' The hitman's voice answered with a question.

  -That's right. I purchased it from Blacksteel a few years ago, through my connections.

  -It's hard to use, and it's not very useful against a pack of wise guys lunging at you.

  -All it can do is offer a little protection to one as weak as myself.

  -By the looks of things, I already figured out who I should be pointing it at years ago.

  -Oh right, Danbrown.

  -I hope that one day, you can just be a regular carwash worker here in Siracusa. One who never has to hold a weapon, ever again.

  In the following moments a loud shot was heard through the radio speaker, and then, silence. Provence was speechless in both body and thought at the magnitude of what just took place. She bore witness to the death of former Segretario di Sicurezza Alimentare Rubio during his inaugural speech. And she was sure that what had just ensued would reverberate throughout Siracusan society one way or another.

  Mister Grape brushed himself against her. Whimpering, worried. Wanting to get her out of this state of fugue upon her mind. And Provence patted him once more, reassuring him.

  With the transmission having come to an end, Provence had a bad feeling at the back of her tail. This would not go down peacefully, she somehow knew that. She could feel it, expect it, even if nothing moved or stirred outside. Indeed, at first the people seemed stunned on the streets as the news spread like an unstoppable current that connected all those who could hear.

  It wasn't even ten minutes later that a large explosion shook the building she was in. Her eyes darted outside where she saw a large mushroom cloud rising from further in the city. She recognised the area where an originum fuel station for cars was. And she knew it was a station controlled by the Bellone famiglia. This didn't bode well she realised. If the famiglies clashed so recklessly that an entire gas station blew up then the situation was much more volatile than initially thought.

  As time drew close for their operation to begin she realised that the general situation down on the surface was rapidly deteriorating, evolving on multiple fronts.

  The people stirred and fled from the streets below. She spotted the heavily armoured transport vans belonging to the company responsible to move the gallery from the manor approaching the estate. But as they did their timing coincided with the ambush of a convoy of gangster cars coming from the opposite direction by a rival famiglia!

  The convoy of gangster cars was ambushed by a larger force of a rival famiglia. She couldn't recognise who the men in the vehicles belonged to, but the ambushers were surely part of the Saluzzo clan she could tell. The ones in the cars never had a chance. They shot back from their flimsy vehicles in vain even as they were sprayed with bullets in return. Being engulfed in flames or dragged out to be brutally beaten. It was a one-sided massacre until the transport vans, caught in the crossfire, pushed on the speed pedal. Ploughing through gangster cars and Saluzzo's alike in their rush.

  But as if matters weren't already convoluted enough she suddenly felt an even more powerful tremor shaking the building. And the manholes on the streets below flew high in the air as pillars of fire ejected from the sewers below! Cassiel had detonated the charges she realised. In the process one of the transport vans caught fire in its entirety. And the other was nearly turned over as it caught the man cover and the flow of the explosion as it passed a manhole in the worst moment!

  The result was that the lead heavy transport truck fled in panic to their destination. Crashing open the heavy iron gates of the manorial estate before the fatal impact with the guardhouse stopped it completely in its tracks. The second, flaming transport didn't fare any better as it went full force into the back of the lead van, also stopping dead in its wake.

  Four of the shipping staff desperately fled out of the second van, their bodies engulfed in vicious flames. One of them dropping dead instantly as he stepped outside his vehicle. The driver of the first transport stepped out of his armoured van. He was obviously confused or dazed from the crash. The guards inside the gate raised their submachine guns and shouted orders. The driver remained confused, and for his folly he was met with a hail of bullets spraying him onto his ill-fated vehicle. He dangled like a meat puppet which strings were suddenly cut, and slid by the automobile, leaving it covered in vivid red.

  Provence had the foresight to have opened three of the tall double windows before all this set into motion. Now she upped the radio's volume on a classical music channel in order to disguise any lingering sound that the silenced rifle would puff out. She walked to a table where she had rolled her portable bed and laid on it. Setting the rifle in front of her on its bipod. It was the best firing position she could have chosen to aid her in support of the two most basic fundamentals of marksmanship. Sight alignment and trigger control.

  The large opened double window ahead of her giving an ample and unimpeded view of the manorial estate in question. All while keeping her inside, away from the window's edge and in the enveloping darkness of the room. A move made to avoid as much exposure and reflective light that might come from the outside. She checked her radio headset before adjusting her rifle's optics, counting the targets on the manor's estate.

  The manor must have been in turmoil as well as the likes of the streets before it. For a portion of the east wing had collapsed from the explosion that must have originated from the originum gas regulator in its basement. Leaving an exposed facade in vivid flames that seemed poised to consume the rest of that unfortunate wing, and whoever might have remained inside. A disaster that would serve as an extra distraction for the guards as she would take them out.

  The butt stock of the rifle was firm and consistent against her shoulder. Provence settled on the soft folding bed as she found the best position to handle her weapon. Warming up to the task with every pace without rush. While mister Grape sharpened his ears. Both him and the meepo construct a deadly duo that would detect any and deter all.

  She gently felt the trigger, choosing her first quarry atop the manor's roof. She zeroed in, releasing her breath naturally, and as she reached the lull shortly at the end of exhaling she firmly squeezed the trigger. With the rifle puffing a muffled sound the first target dropped dead. She quickly switched to his colleague on the opposite side of the building, and he fell as swiftly as the first. It was necessary to pick out those that held the high ground first. Less they all became alerted about a sniper taking them out. Her radio headset buzzed with the waves it picked up.

  -Main Sec, the cargo transport just breached the gates! Possible famiglia attack on the perimeter!

  Provence squinted as she zoomed in. Carefully but swiftly checking every row of windows to pick any guards that might have been watching from the inside of the manor itself.

  -Uuuh, negative here. I am not seeing movement beyond the mass further from the gates. Request additional squad to reinforce main gate while we establish situational awareness.

  She firmly pulled the trigger, and a guard splattered red the painting behind him before falling down. Another fell backward, crashing right into an ornamental flower pot. The second floor gave her four more kills as her rifle puffed unheard and deadly the 7.62×54mm bullets into the air. Each finding their mark home. The base floor presented her with only two kills to take.

  -This is Main Sec. Additional squad approved. Stand by for new orders. Be aware that we have had a major system collapse of both our utilities and our server systems. Teon Two, report on that mass again?

  Besides the guards converging at the breached gate there were only two more, further away by a fountain. Assessing the situation from their safe distance rather than coming to the aid of their colleagues. She aimed at the guard behind the first and took the shot. Hitting him squarely in the chest. Piercing his wind pipe and spine. He fell behind the bush besides him, slumping completely out of sight.

  The guard in front of him must have heard something. For he turned, startled to see his companion suddenly vanished. This presented Provence with a perfect shot behind the lower region of his head that his helmet didn't reach to cover. The bullet flew right in, and certainly must have ricocheted onto the interior helmet. Bouncing right back inside its head. Turning his skull into a pot of brain mush as he completely fell limp into the fountain. A tinge of red spreading steadily in the once pristine water.

  She quickly brought her scope to the group of mercenaries at the guardhouse by the main entry. She prepared, picking a target when it suddenly dashed inside. She kept her calm and brought her scope to the next query. She pulled the trigger, and another body hit the floor. Immediately his colleague turned to see the horrifying sight. She saw his hand going to the radio on his chest. Her own radio set lit up in her ear.

  -''We have a squad mate that just collapsed, we need a medic here! Also, the mass seems like a large gathering of disgruntled locals fighting some smaller group, I... couldn't really give an accurate assessment. I-'' Provence would not permit him to finish. He was too good of a target standing so perfectly still. The shot pierced squarely between his eyes. Such a resounding clap hitting the cobblestone floor that she swore she heard it at even that distance.

  -What is it Teon Two?

  -Teon Two this is Main Sec. Respond.

  -Teon One to Six report your situation.

  The guard that had dashed inside was then rushing outside, freezing in place over the threshold of the door. It was enough for Provence as she took the shot. The angle was bad, nevertheless her aim was true as the bullet went through his temple and out. Spraying the wall besides him.

  -Cough! Teon twelve, cough, here. Base level, east wing. Sir. The place just blew up beneath us. Everyone here, cough, is dead. The inferno is spreading, and, hic, I, cough, am badly burnt. I... I need help.

  The last and blissfully ignorant mercenary on top of the guard house was monitoring the growing crowd outside the gates. He was greeted with a bullet to his heart. Stopping it in an instant before he even hit the cobblestone floor in front the guard house building.

  The shooting session was short but intense. As Provence pulled away from her scope, having done with any visible targets she gave more notice to the large crowd gathering below her. Rising sporadic sounds of weapons fire could be heard all around the city now. Something incredible was happening. The victorious ambushers were having an entirely different and unexpected challenger rising against them. The people of Volsinii.

  Residents were coming out from every alleyway and building. Wielding clubs, sticks, knives and many blunt objects. And she noticed that quite a few in the crowd had pistols and rifles as well. They seemed adamant and angry. And they were approaching the thugs.

  She realised that the people of Volsinii were rising against the mafia that were the famiglias. Ministro Rubio's speech had roused them to the indignity and injustice that was pressing daily on their livelihoods. In his last moment he gave them hope. He gave them courage and something to fight for. And the Saluzzo's on the street below her were at the receiving end of a crowd at least one hundred times their number.

  The Saluzzo's shouted, brandishing their weapons to no avail. They fired onto the crowd, and in return a hail of bullets along flying rocks and bottles met them back. One rifle round destroying the jaw of one of the hit men, falling bloodied and pained. The thugs were dumbfounded, and then scared. All of the Saluzzo's bore at least a pistol, and at least half of them had submachine guns.

  They were thirty in number, a large group. Yet they were quickly cornered and forced to retreat at a rapidly increasing pace towards the manorial estate which gates were busted open. Two failed to keep pace with the pack and were quickly surrounded by the people. Only one had a handgun, but to his demise a man swung a bat. Throwing the gun away from his grasp and pulping his hand. His fellow gangster on the other hand was a monster of a large man.

  ''He may not land a hit often, but they will feel it when he does.'' Provence thought, and her opinion was validated as the gangster, wielding a pair of brass knuckles swung and literally destroyed a man's head in his attack. The people surrounding them were deterred, only for a moment before they lashed onto them. The wounded thug brandished his knife with the other hand, managing to stab a woman before a bat connected to his ribs. And then a nailed plank bashed his head, landing him onto the ground.

  His bulkier partner swung left and right. Connecting hits and pummelling to death with each contact he made. But he was biting more than he could chew. If he had any semblance of intelligence in him, he would have used that great strength of his to have escaped the encirclement back to his pack. But he stood there. Thinking he could take on the world. The world had something else to say as a knife stabbed into his back.

  The bulky gangster turned, catching the man responsible. Crushing his head into a pulpy mush with both his big hands. The scream echoed desperately before a sound like a popping melon was heard. But instead of horrifying the residents it only infuriated them. A bat connected to the knee of the brass gangster, and he stirred as if about to fall. He turned and landed another fist into an unfortunate in the crowd.

  But the crowd was thicker and meaner than he could ever be alone. A boot connected to his ribs. A bat came swinging into his back. And amazingly a fist went hard into his nose, breaking it. The gangster fell on one of his knees. Then, suddenly, the mass lunged onto him. Holding, beating, biting and tearing him apart. A grotesquely deep voice resounded painfully before even that was subdued by the enraged mass.

  The estate's entrance was silent besides the burning transport truck. Bereft of security as Provence had taken them out completely, the Saluzzo thugs quickly decided to enter in search of a safer place to hold out at. And at the moment that they were passing through the gates Provence saw the reinforcements sent from the manor's security forces.

  -''This is Teon Seven-sczzz-'' The radio transmission went dead as Provence shot the squad leader of the arriving security team straight in the head. Aiming to sow unrest and disorder in the remaining reinforcing group.

  -Teon Seven this is Main Sec, respond!

  -Fire! Fire! -trrrtss- This is Teon Eight! Teon Seven is down! We have a large number of famiglia hit men coming through the broken gates! They are followed by what seems like the entire people of Volsinii. Every one of our people are dead here but us, we need backup now!

  -All available squads reinforce the front gate and the south side of the perimeter. Stand by for further orders.

  Her quick thought plan had worked. With the squad leader taken out, and the enormity of intruders at their gates they would be hard-pressed to notice that their dead colleagues all around were a sniper's handiwork. Being quick to blame the death of their squad leader on the many Saluzzo hitmen facing them they opened fire.

  The five remaining security mercenaries all expertly jumped into cover. Their machine guns blazing at the intruders in white. For their part the large Saluzzo gang were caught between a rock and a hard place. They had little proper cover between the crashed transporters and the estate entrance. They were firing wildly in all directions as the mass of the roused and bitter Volsinii populace was out for their blood and closing in on them.

  The mass of citizens were peppering both the Saluzzo's and the guards further back behind their covers with sporadic fire, rocks and even incendiary cocktails. The Saluzzo's, and even the mercenary's ammunition wouldn't last long. And when it would finally dry out they would be engulfed in that tide of hungry wolves.

  Provence took to monitoring the manor itself. Looking for any signs of Cassiel or further targets to take out and ease his task. Hoping for him to break the radio silence and tell her to finally pull out of here. To pull out of Volsinii altogether. She had picked up a squad of mercs rushing down a corridor. They were fast on the move, but she could have still taken some of them out. Yet she held that impulse at bay. Taking any one down now would alert everyone left of her presence. And for all she knew there could have still been a substantial amount of mercenaries inside the manor itself.

  She waited like a patient hunter as she stalked. Six of the merc squad went further inside a corridor, losing track of them. However, two remained on each side of the corridor momentarily to secure their backs. And two seconds was all she needed to squeeze the trigger and re-aim. Both guards dropped dead like rag dolls. Body armoured as they were it was useless against the superior enhanced-penetration rounds that Cassiel had procured for her.

  A lull in her assignment seemed to have installed itself as she perused leisurely but for the lack of targets. The entrance to the manorial entrance was a hectic battle zone by now. The lone mercenary squad was doubly reinforced. But they barely seemed able to contain the situation as the enraged mass of Volsinii was slowly pushing inside the entrance. As well as sporadically managing to jump the fence all over that side of the estate. The Saluzzo gang were mostly dead and scattered by now. Having decided that the greater threat were the mob out for their necks they made a desperate push inside the estate. Choosing to confront the mercenaries rather than the seemingly rabid mass of people. Inflicting further casualties on the manorial guard numbers.

  It was at this point that Provence feared the feasibility of extracting Cassiel from the place. A sudden blast breath broke a window on the second floor, catching Provence's attention. This must have been near the second entrance that Cassiel planned to enter by she instantly remembered.

  She stalked for a long time until her worries began to grow. It was already passing the thirty-minute mark, and she wondered about breaking the radio silence. Then, another blast breath had broken a window at the base floor of the manor where the main exhibit hallway should have been. Yet she saw nothing but smoke and fire in the wake of the explosion.

  Her focus remained primed in search of her query, of her lover. She saw nothing and Provence kept at bay a growing unease at this idleness. Then, through one window she saw a tell-tale figure holding a great glass ball. The difference in light outside of the building and inside of it at this time, as well as the angle meant she couldn't properly identify who she was seeing. But the paleness of the figure's face gave it away. He had just stopped playing with the large sphere of glass, holding it in place for once.

  She zoomed in with a quickness that was now natural to her, and her breath exhaled. Squeezing the trigger Provence took the shot.