Lord Vicenzo watched the news feed again, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. The wrecking details of Lord Leonardo's deadly demise played out in vivid, gruesome detail.
As the camera panned over the ambush site at dawn's first light, smoke billowed from the charred wreckage of the convoy's lead vehicle. Reporters and cameras detailing a once-sleek frame now twisted into an unrecognizable hunk of burnt metal - a twisted monument to the ferocity of the attack.
The acrid reek of smoldering rubber and hot metal mingled with the coppery tang of fresh blood, saturating the air in a cloying miasma of chaos and destruction.
It was the remains of the vehicle carrying Lord Leonardo himself that drew Vicenzo's haunted stare. That once-impervious limousine had been essentially melted away, leaving behind only the warped, smoldering husk and a few tattered fragments of Leonardo's favorite suit - the only proof he'd ever occupied that steel coffin.
