BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
Rain sluices down the filthy brickwork, neon signs flickering through the miasma like will-o-wisps in a fetid bog. NICO slips from shadow to shadow, the street grime blending seamlessly with his night-charcoal outfit.
He hunkers beneath the skeletal ribcage of a rusted fire escape. Two BIZZIES in cheap suits come shouldering their way outta some unmarked door across the alleyway, all shoulders back and swiveling heads on swivel like a coupla hawks on the prowl. Nico tenses, hand inching under his coat towards that trusty 9 mill tucked snug against his ribs.
But the two gorillas just shuffle on by without so much as a sideways glance, muttering into headset mics in rapidfire Sicilian dialect.
Dismissing 'em with a hocked loogie once they're gone, Nico slips beneath the cracked doorway like a wraith, vanishing from sight.
