Bacio sat at the cafe, her ruby red lips sipping the turkish coffee while her eyes tracked Arturo across the Piazza della Republicca. It had been bitter cold, but the coffee and her smoldering hate kept her warm as she stalked him through the Italian countryside to this market in Florence.

It had begun as just another job, but after three weeks of stake-outs she had discovered that Signore Alighieri had a viscious, dark secret – an unquenchable thirst for young girls. Chasing young women is a national past time for Italian men, but this was different. Violent. The girls he targeted had started to disappear, including Bacio’s younger sister Bella. She had no way to prove he was responsible for her vanishing, but even the possiblity enraged her.

“Buon giorno, Signore Alighieri,” she called to him as he passed by, a smile parting her lips.

He turned, mistook the angry fire in her eyes for passion, and decided instantly that he had to have her. He straightened his tie and crossed the Piazza to his death.