With the hum of the city still muted by the pre-dawn chill, Vincenzo's internal clock pulled him from sleep with ruthless efficiency. He rose not to the gentle light of morning, but to the grim shadow of a new challenge, a new mask to wear. Each day was a step deeper into the belly of the Underworld beast, and his first mission was not an act of malice, but a performance of loyalty. As he meticulously fastened the buttons of his tailored suit, a uniform for the lie he was living, the reflection in the glass was not his own. It was a projection of the loyal, dependable operative- the perfect pawn.
The familiar weight of his gun felt different today, concealed beneath the crisp fabric not for an assassination, but for self-preservation and the ultimate act of sabotage. Every cufflink, every fold of his silk tie, was a deliberate choice meant to portray competence and commitment. The organization, a viper's nest of paranoia and ruthless ambition, would be watching. He knew that gaining their trust was not about performing their tasks well, but about anticipating their suspicions. His primary mission was not to shed blood, but to become an indispensable shadow, moving ever closer to the heart of the power he intended to dismantle. He would play the loyal soldier, endure the upcoming tasks they give, and wait for the perfect moment to become the very weapon that would bring the entire structure crashing down.
***
Vincenzo's routine was a precise, unhurried choreography. In the dim light of the room, he paused before the mirror, a final, unconcerned check. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so automatic it barely registered. The gold casing of his watch caught the light and flared for a moment, a bright, inocuous detail in the gloom. The expensive leather of his shoes made no sound on the floor as he turned away from his own reflection, leaving the mirror to stare back at the empty space where he had just stood.
The door's hydraulic hiss was the only sound in the deep hallway. After closing it behind him, he froze, his gaze fixed on the anomaly just beyond the threshold. A file. Manila, mundane, and out of place. His heart, a steady metronome through years of training, skipped a beat. Across the tab, a single word: Mission.
Vincenzo approached with a predator's caution, scanning for wires, triggers, anything that could make this a trap. He picked it up. Clean. Unremarkable. But the word, Mission, hammered into his mind. It wasn't an assignment. It wasn't a job. It was the first. "They're really doing it," he whispered to himself, the words catching in his throat. He thought they would make him wait forever, that the drills would never end, but the file in his hand was the beginning of everything.
***
The polished veneer of the corridor reflected, his stern, unblinking gaze as he traced the "S-Level Clearance Only" stamped in faded red ink. He pulled the tab, the quiet tearing of paper a small sound in the otherwise silent hallway, and let the file fall open. His eyes scanned the first few pages with disinterest, the details- the police raid, the seizure of a consignment briefcase- a mundane pretext for what he knew was to come.
Vincenzo muttered to himself, "The police, of all people." A brief, humourless smile touched his lips. "They take this seriously. They think this is some kind of risk." He flipped a page, revealing a mugshot of a low-level thug who'd been foolish enough to get caught. "An S-level mission," he scoffed softly. The file slid shut with a slap, the sound echoing down the empty hall. He tucked it under his arm, already turning away from the door he hadn't needed to enter. He knew what to do. The dossier was a formality; the mission was already a ghost in his mind. "It's already done."
***
The stainless-steel elevator doors parted with hush shhh. Vincenzo, stepped inside, his movements were fluid, devoid of the anxiety that seemed to cling to the fluorescent-lit air. Two figures in identical black suits met him, their heads bowing in a synchronised, curt gesture. They were shadows in a dimly lit elevator, and their deference was as chilling and precise too.
One of them straightened and offered Vincenzo a mask. It was stark white, a perfect porcelain oval, but the features were disturbing: a delicate mouth turned down in an expression of profound sorrow. His hand, still warm from the polished mission folder, hesitated. His brow furrowed in a flicker of confusion.
"The mask," the man said, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "It is the way."
Vincenzo's sharp mind ran through possibilities. A signature. A uniform. Some sick internal code for this particular brand of brutality. The underworld organization, he surmised, had its own twisted traditions. It was a brand, a morbid signature. He took the mask, the smooth, cold ceramic shocking his fingertips.
"We hide our faces," the second man explained, his own blank-faced mask already in place. "To show the world the pain we inflict. We give them a new kind of tragedy."
Vincenzo slid the mask over his face. It was an effortless fit, clinging to his skin like a second face. The world seen through the eyeholes was narrow, focused, and utterly without empathy.
"A spectacle," Vincenzo mused, his voice muffled by the ceramic. "How theatrical."
"Only on the surface," the first man replied, his tone as flat as the mask. "It is about the mission. The mask is just for them. So they know we are not men. We are fate."
Vincenzo offered a small, humourless nod. "Then let's go deliver some fate."
***
A sneak peek to the childhood~
A child's birthday should be a celebration, but for Vincenzo, it was just another day to walk on eggshells. His mother slammed a single, unwrapped present onto the table. "Don't act so surprised. You know we don't have money for this."
A gust of wind slammed the front door shut, making her jump. "What was that? Stop making so much noise!" The boy flinched, even though he hadn't moved. The next moment, his father stormed through the door, his face a grim mask. "Who the hell left the lights on? Do you think we own this place?" The boy looked at the small, cheap toy, wishing it could make him disappear.
To be continued...🤍