Second-person POV
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You wandered around the streets of Italy. You thought about how different your home was, and felt a yearning for the familiarity. The smell, the scenery, the vibe. But there was no denying that you were a fugitive in your home country. You swept back your (hair texture) hair and tried enjoying the breeze.
You turned the corner when you saw a man, taller than anyone you've ever met, with a black jester hat, striped pants, and a black jacket to put it all together. He had eyes that pierced your soul. The whites were black and his irises were a warning shade of red. You went to make a smug remark when you felt a piercing sensation on your temple. Before you could say anything or even scream, you instinctively drew your hand to your head and felt your consciousness fade out with a loud thump.
When you woke up your mind flooded with a sudden panic and fear that you were caught and being arrested. But if you were arrested then why the pain in your head so suddenly. You gingerly touched your wound only to feel the soft fabric of a bandage. You weren't imagining things, and that just confirmed it. You looked up across the table you were sitting at. The rope strapping you to the chair you're sitting in felt tight as if to hold back a wild animal. As you looked over, the man stared at you. The bells on his bat, spelling out the word "RISOTTO", shined in the light from the lamp above you.
Suddenly, in the deepest voice you think you've heard,
"Finally. You're awake. Thought I killed you. Not that it would matter, but I have some... questions. A dead man can't answer things, can they?"
YOU ARE READING
🫀 La Squadra's new assassin🫀
FanfictionAfter escaping your home country as a fugitive, an intense interrogation by the Italian mob followed by months of homelessness on the streets of Venice, you join a gang. Little do you know you just joined the same gang that interrogated you nearly...
