On a cold Milanese morning in 1905, the city was drowning in fog, covering the streets in a way that reflected the ambiguity of daily life. Franco Batto, a detective at the police station, stood in front of the small mirror of his office, wearing his formal suit. As his fingers felt the edge of his jacket, his eyes watched the change that had come over him. Today was not like any other, he would face a double challenge. During the day, he was the honest detective, and at night... he was someone else.
"Today will be different." Franco whispered to himself, at that moment when he was looking at the pictures of his father hanging on the wall. His father was one of hundreds of victims of corruption that permeated the layers of Italian society, and now it was his turn to be the tool that would destroy this system.
"Is everything ready?" he asked himself as he reached for his weapon hidden in the office, a 9mm Beretta pistol. He put it in his bag, then closed his office and went out into the street where the city was beginning to move. He had to move between two different worlds; The world of a policeman seeking justice, and the world of a killer pursuing criminals.
---
Inside the police station, the atmosphere was different. Papers were scattered, and chaos reigned. Franco was walking quietly between the offices. He stood in front of one of the files belonging to the "Zacrouta" mafia, his eyes focused on the names written down. He knew these names well; it was a list of enemies he had to take revenge on, but at the same time he had to deal with them daily in the investigations.
"Franco, we have a new case." Came the voice of Inspector Marco Renzi, his co-worker, who entered the office carrying a large file. Marco was a strange person, always seeming like a loyal friend, but Franco knew that not everything was as it seemed.
"What do we have?" Franco answered as he flipped through the papers, trying to avoid looking at Marco, knowing that Marco was watching his movements.
"A new case involving assassins linked to the Zacrota mafia. These are not like the others, each one has distinct characteristics. One was killed in a massacre last week, and the others have completely disappeared." Marco said, his eyes glinting with suspicion.
"Send me the details." Franco replied, his mind completely occupied with his mission tonight.
---
As evening fell, Milan was slowly starting to breathe. The sky was completely dark, and the city was covered in fog. Franco was in his small car, heading to his first target of the night: Emilio "The Executioner" Santorini, a hitman loyal to the Zacrota mafia. But Franco was not just chasing a criminal, he was chasing the man responsible for killing his father years ago.
Emilio lived in the posh San Marino neighborhood, in a tenth-floor apartment. He was surrounded by bodyguards, but Franco was no stranger to dealing with such challenges. He had elaborate plans, ensuring he could sneak in unnoticed.
Franco arrived at the building, parking his car out of sight. He took a moment to concentrate, then began to prepare his tools. He opened his bag, pulling out a pair of black gloves and a bundle of fine wires he had made specifically for these tasks. He knew that this wasn't just killing, it was art.
Sneaking through the back entrance of the building, where the bodyguard was standing, Franco used his signature move to evade detection. His step was calculated, and in an instant, he had the bodyguard's neck in a quick paralysis.
"You're out of the game now." He whispered in his ear, making sure not to make a sound.
He entered the building quietly, passing through the closed hallways. He heard a noise in the distance, where Emilio was most likely partying with some friends. As he approached the apartment, he briefly stopped himself in front of the door.
He took out a spare key he had previously obtained from a source within the mafia, and opened the door silently.
The apartment was dark, the only light coming from dim lamps. Emilio was asleep on his luxurious bed, everything around him looking perfect. But Franco knew this was not a safe place for him.
He slowly approached, then put his hand over Emilio's mouth to stop him from making a sound. It was a quick move, then he pulled out the sharp-bladed knife.
"Revenge… has no mercy." Franco whispered, then began to execute his sentence coldly.
When he was done, he slowly wiped the knife away and left it in its place, making sure that no evidence was left that could reveal him. He turned off the lights and quietly walked out, leaving the body behind.
---
On the way back to his car, Franco was breathing slowly, expressing his relief. It was a moment of amusement for him, but at the same time he knew this was just the beginning. There were so many scores to settle, so many enemies still breathing.
"This is just the beginning, Milano." He said as he drove through the dark roads.