Kingston Kassa was a waiter at a well-known club on the streets of Rome. In the eyes of many, it wasn't a respectable job, and the salary was meager, but Kingston was quite satisfied with his occupation.
BUZZ!
At that moment, the phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. His expression changed slightly as he quickly fished a pitch-black box out of his trousers. On its display was the icon of a blood-stained dagger.
"Another mission, huh? Oh, my darlings, it seems I have to leave for a while. What a pity," Kingston said, his eyes narrowing into a cold, dangerous sneer as he looked at the icon.
"Oi, Kingston, what are you dawdling for? Can't you see a table of guests just left? Hurry up and clean it for me. If you keep dragging your feet, don't blame me for withholding this month's salary!" A short, fat man barged over, cursing. This was the club's owner, who seemed to have taken a dislike to Kingston and constantly found excuses to deduct his wages.
BANG!
