THE NAME THAT SHATTERS

Carlo Salvatore was a man of contradictions, a monster whom many mistook for a saint, a killer. Standing at 6'4", he carried himself like the beast he was. His skin was a drawing board of violence, marked by knife scars from knife fights and gunshot wounds. A black spiderweb tattoo crawled up the left side of his neck, with which an inscription of a faded barcode LF-117, was covered. The barcode and the spiderweb tattoo were the only remnants of a past he'd burned to the ground. His eyes told a heavy real story. One was milky white and blinded, blinded in a long-forgotten knife fight. He never hid his dead eye from the world. As he would always say he let people see through his gaze and tell what sort of man he was: a man who could look with compassion but had no mercy at all. Carlo Salvatore was what many would describe as unyielding. He was brutal and enigmatic. He had a fast rise through the ranks in La Mano Nera because of his commitment and dedication. No one, absolutely no one on the planet would've thought that he was a double agent, working for La Fratellanza della Morte too. He orchestrated an attack that had Luca almost killed a while ago and this made him and Luca blood enemies. Luca had sworn to kill him no matter what it would cost him. And then there was Bianca. She happened to be the foster daughter of Carlo Salvatore. He was to her, in fact, a savior. A man who had shown up after she was moved through a lot of foster homes and accepted her for what she was: a sad, mischievous little girl. He never bothered her, only loved her and provided her with all she wanted always. But he had also trained her to be what she was now: a skilled assassin. He began training her as early as twelve years old. Her first kill and the first lesson still cemented in her mind to this day. That was perhaps, something she would never forget. In a cabin in the Alps that smelled of blood and gunpowder. Snow piled against the windows, sealing them in silence. Carlo knelt before Bianca, holding her little hands, he pressed a hunting knife into her hands. 'Blood is the only language men like us speak," he murmured, as he gently folded her fingers around the knife. His tattoo stretched as he turned his head to face the corner of the room. In that corner of the room, a man struggled… Officer Rinaldi, the cop who had pulled Bianca from her last foster home. 'I can't do it," she whispered. Carlo's gold canine tooth glinted. 'Yes, you can La mia piccola angiolleto." (My Little Angel) In the end, she did it. She killed him. That was the first of a thousand more to follow. She had quite the time growing up, responsible for multiple high-profile kills before she even turned 18. Bianca was exactly what Carlo had wanted: a prolific and efficient assassin. Bianca and Isabella Moretti had gotten acquainted through her father. Who introduced Isabella as his associate. Bianca always wanted to be like Isabella, although she didn't know exactly what it was about her that she liked. Maybe her independence. Carlo left Bianca at the age of 19. She had just come back from a hit in Budapest, her boots covered in blood which was traced on the floorboards of the safe house. Carlo stood by the fireplace, feeding papers to the flames. 'You're ready," he said, without turning to look at her. She froze. 'Ready for what?" She asked although she knew in her mind, she wasn't ready for anything. 'To begin on your own," he turned to her and slowly approached her as he spoke. 'You must begin a life of your own now, away from me. Choose your path." He gave her a plane ticket. 'Illinois, One-way. A new beginning, a beginning of your choosing." 'No," she choked. 'I can't please. I can't live without you. I can't live without Isabella" 'Love is a weakness," he hissed, gripping her chin. The spiderweb on his neck pulsed with veins. 'And I can't let you die soft." He pushed her away and walked out of the safe house. Beginning on her own wasn't easy, but she had to do it anyway. She never really did leave Philadelphia and never even went to Illinois except it was for business. She hated the city, maybe because it reminded her of her father's betrayal. And for Isabella, she did see much of her again until now. ******* Luca had recently discovered Bianca was Carlos' foster daughter and this complicated things for him. But it was safer to not ask her anything than to do. Now she was the one asking what he knew about Carlo Salvatore. What was breeding this curiosity? He thought to himself.