Winter in Venice was a labyrinth of fog creeping across canals as black as ink. Palazzo Zenobio, a Baroque masterpiece standing proudly in the Dorsoduro district, had become the center of gravity for the remnants of the world's power tonight. Murano chandeliers cast a warm golden glow that shimmered across the still canal waters, concealing the presence of Crimson Syndicate divers guarding the ancient wooden foundations beneath the palace.Elena Ravelli stepped from a tactical black gondola. She wore an elegant burgundy silk evening gown that flowed gracefully around her, but beneath the luxurious fabric, a leather holster held The Black Mamba snug against her side. Silas Vane, dressed in a tuxedo with the rigid bearing of a battleship mast, offered his hand to help her onto the palazzo's private dock."Lorenzo's blood hasn't even dried on the floor in Rome, Don Elena," Silas whispered, his eyes sweeping across the tall windows guarded by soldiers from foreign factions. "Venice is a n

Rain never fell simply in Paris. It descended like a silver curtain, refracting the dim glow of the streetlights and weaving a labyrinth of shadows across the slick pavement. The City of Light now resembled a dying patient drained of blood, beautiful yet pale, pulsing weakly beneath the watch of the remaining Black Shield units stationed throughout the administrative districts.Elena Ravelli leaned back against the leather seat of the armored personnel carrier as it glided silently through Place de la Concorde. She wore a tailored black suit beneath a long wool overcoat with rigid shoulders, giving her the unmistakable silhouette of her late brother. Resting on her lap was a holographic tablet displaying the blueprint of an ancient building in the 1st arrondissement."Silas, do you feel it? Paris doesn't smell like perfume today. It smells like rust and fear," Elena said, her voice calm yet sharp enough to cut through the silence.Silas Vane, seated in the front with his long-barreled

The drizzle over Geneva felt like thousands of icy needles trying to pierce the defenses of a city that had always been calm and immaculate. The Palais des Nations, now serving as the headquarters of The Sovereignty Council, stood proudly beside the lake, surrounded by rows of armored vehicles and fully deployed Executioner-Prime units. Yet out on the streets, that order was nothing more than a mirage. Enraged crowds, stirred by Elena's Legacy-Zero broadcast, had surrounded the main gates, shouting for the return of their stolen assets and identities.Elena Ravelli stepped out of the armored vehicle directly in front of the military barricade. She wore no heavy body armor. Instead, she was dressed in a bespoke burgundy suit that stood in striking contrast to Geneva's ash-gray sky. In one hand, she carried an old leather briefcase, a ledger containing every bureaucratic sin ever committed by the ruling council."Don Elena, the biometric scanners at the front gate are still active," Sil