High over the city, a rack of clouds drifted across the hunters' room so fast, it seemed as if it was a rushed motion picture. Two hours later, the blue four-doored SEAT 127 cut the motor and coasted in the yellow box marked "Parcheggio per Tassisti - NO PARKING".
A slim figure wearing the black tailor-made suit, that was picked up earlier that day emerged from the front seat. Being raised by the Italian fascists, he was known as the Apprentice by the shadowy organisations that employed him for his 'special' services. The twenty six year-old, with the unusual dark eyes and bleached hair walked stealthily, with a catlike elegance.
Pulling on a pair of surgeon's latex gloves, he entered the dark Alley.
Roman Torriti couldn't understand... Why would someone kill a vicar? Why would they leave evidence that could tie them to the case? The Hit was a professional one, Torriti could assure himself and cross the Mafia off the list.
Ok I got bored writing :) thats the start of my Novel - to be turened Graphic Novel, later in time.