A rush of fresh air greets you when the cabin door slowly opens. A breathtaking, poetic landscape unfolds before your eyes.
Commandant, we're here.
The boundless azure sea embraces the shore, lifting the rolling mountains high above. Verdant firs in their abundance stand like countless slanted towers toward the heavens, adorning the crystal-clear midday sky.
So this is Catania...
The roar of the transport craft gradually fades behind you as Lucia stands on the towering sea cliff that overlooks the entire island.
At first glance, Catania resembles a gorgeous seashell petal floating upon the boundless ocean, while the clusters of white pavilions perched on the high cliffs appear like sleeping pearls nestled within.
It really is as beautiful as they say.
Leaving the elevated landing site, you and Lucia step onto Catania's rugged coastline.
The two of you have been walking for only a few minutes when you notice that the coastline has grown somewhat level.
Following the prominent signs along the way, the two of you arrive at a wide asphalt road.
Directly beneath the road sign sits a vintage black convertible.
A man in a formal suit stands beside the car, with several cigarette butts scattered at his feet—clear evidence he's been waiting here for quite some time now.
Upon seeing the two of you, he adjusts his attire and walks over with composed confidence.
"Here vigour fail'd the tow'ring fantasy."
Commandant...? That was the mission's code phrase.
Hearing Lucia's quiet reminder behind you, you immediately recall the code phrases from the briefing—
"That moves the sun in heav'n and all the 'stars.'"
Frank, strategist of the Savoy family. Lady Dawne sent me to escort you both.
Honored godchild, Miss Lucia, welcome to Catania.
The man bows slightly and kisses Lucia's hand ceremoniously.
Please, step inside. Lady Dawne is waiting at the estate.
Catania
Factory District in the Suburbs
Deep within a factory, hoarse cries for help echo through the air.
Hey, help! Somebody! Can anyone hear me?!
Open up, let me out! My cat needs feeding!
With a screech, the iron door is suddenly yanked open just a crack, and a menacing face pops through the gap.
Quiet! Quit hollering every time a car drives by. No one's coming for you!
For Lucifer's sake, we've been locked up for three days! Your family's fighting. What's that got to do with us workers? Open the damn door!
Oh, quit whining! You've at least got a place to lie down. I haven't had a wink of sleep in days!
He raises his gun as he glares at the dozen or so dispirited workers crammed into the room, his face twisted with irritation.
Our bosses are talking downstairs. Once they're done, you can all go home.
Oh, come on! You said that yesterday. My poor cat's probably licking the toilet dry by now!
Seriously? Still going on about that? Here, take my phone and call the cops yourself!
If it weren't for us holding the damn line, you'd be Punishing chow by now!
This is freakin' Catania! Whether your cat eats or goes hungry, that's up to the Thirteen Families!
With a loud bang, the door slams shut, cutting off the workers' shouts behind it.
Directly beneath the factory building, two families find themselves in the middle of an aggressive face-off. Their endless stream of insults fills the air as tensions reach a breaking point.
The old man's mansion in Catania, the jet, the cigar plantations in Canicatti, I want it all, or no deal!
Oh, and that golf course in Ragusa, I'm turning it into a big airstrip. You backward yokels will see my jet trail every damn day.
Those fossils should've been put to pasture years ago. Babylonia proved it: our future's out there in space! Once I'm in charge, Catania's gonna see how business really gets done!
Remus Russell fidgets with a butterfly knife in his hand as he looks down at the crowd with a sidelong glance, his entire demeanor imperious and domineering.
C-come on, Remus, j-just let it go. Dad w-w-wouldn't want to see us tearing each other apart like this.
Faced with his younger brother's threats, Romulus Russell appears somewhat intimidated, while his family behind him remains irate.
Please. He's probably down there cracking jokes, trying to land a gig as Dante's tour guide.
Lord above, Remus, y-you can't talk about Dad like that.
Oh yeah? Then maybe check what your precious scripture says: "But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur."
If that's how it works, the old man's burning in Hell right now.
Remus... you—you—
Shhh, no foul language. Ephesians 4:29.
He makes a hushing gesture with a sly grin.
Now, my dear dimwit brother, sign the papers, hand over the family rights, and get the hell out with whatever dignity you've got left.
But... but the will... Dad's will didn't even m-mention your name!
A-and I'm not a d-dimwit!
"But the mouths of fools feed on folly." Proverbs, 15:14.
Remus suddenly hurls his butterfly knife. The knife thrusts straight into the ground around Romulus, making Romulus leap to his feet.
—Ah!
This blatant provocation ignites the powder keg of tension, erupting into open conflict between the two parties.
Holy Mary, boss! This punk's really asking for it. I can't take it anymore!
Russells. Get your weapons!
Sons of Beelzebub! Can't believe there are still idiots lining up to die for that stuttering freak!
Bring it on! We're Russells. Let's show them who they're messing with!
The vehicle cruises smoothly along the highway. Next to you, Lucia rests her chin on her hand as she gazes out the window at the mountains that unfurl like a flowing tapestry.
Suddenly, a sharp explosion pierces the air.
In an instant, you grip the weapon at your waist, exchanging vigilant glances with Lucia.
...That's the Russells. Old man Russell just passed, and now his two sons are fighting over the inheritance.
Should we take a detour?
Looking toward where the sound came from, you see towering chimneys rising at the edge of the horizon. As your vehicle advances, the massive industrial complex gradually reveals itself below.
Overlapping shouts grow increasingly clear. In your line of sight, two groups of men in suits are exchanging gunfire around the factory perimeter, creating a scene of complete chaos.
Hey! Somebody help! Please!
Someone wearing a hard hat pokes out from a factory window, shouting desperately toward the highway.
We've been locked in here for three damn days. Someone do something!
Lucia instantly picks up on the desperate plea for help.
Commandant, we've got civilians caught in the crossfire.
She surveys the battlefield that's been illuminated by flashes of gunfire, rapidly assessing the situation.
They're using live ammo, and there's flammable stuff all over the place. Hostages could get killed.
...
Frank shifts his gaze upward and fixes an intense stare on you through the rearview mirror.
...A word of advice, Your Grace: stay out of the Russells' business.
I'm under orders to get you safely to Lady Dawne. I can't let you walk into a firefight.
Frank, with all due respect, whether you stop or not, Commandant and I can handle the rescue ourselves.
...
Under your persistent insistence, Frank gradually slows the vehicle.
Of course. Lady Dawne did instruct me to follow your lead, Your Grace.
He turns the steering wheel, pointing the vehicle toward the factory.
If it comes to it, don't hesitate to drop your title. Around here, "Lady Dawne's godchild" opens every door.
