Underneath an unbrella that shielded the table from the bright sun, Nico Romano sipped lightly from a glass of red wine. Across from him sat Alecia Giannopoulos, the head hancho in Greece, businesswoman and boss of the many political machines in the region. A very beautiful woman as well, without a doubt. She took a sip from her glass of white wine as she reclined in her chair, her arms folded across her chest save for the arm holding the wine glass.
"I have no doubt that you have the ability to run the nation, Nico," she said, her voice cooing teasingly yet shadowed with intelligence. "And the fact that you've gotten this far to actually threaten Consul Costa's office speaks volumes about how shrewed you truly are. But what has me...shall we say, skeptical...is just the sheer amount of risk involved in supporting you."
"Risk?" Nico Romano set the wine glass on the table, then leaned in, looking straight into Giannopoulos's eyes. "I think you overestimate the ability of the PRR establishment."
"I think you underestimate it, Generale Romano."
"I have the backing of the military, massive popular support, and support within the PRR," Romano said, low and terse. "In fact, many speculate that if I'm
not elected, there could be revolts throughout the nation."
"How could I not know?" Giannopoulos said, the corners of her lips rising slightly. "You certainly made your mark in Greece, when you last visited. Your promise of greater militarization certainly impressed them."
"And yourself?"
Giannopoulos chuckled. "Perhaps I myself have been impressed, both by your promises and by yourself."
Nico Romano saw that glint in Alecia Giannopoulos eye; she was toying with him in more ways than one. Granted, she was a power player, and was likely simply using another tactic in her playbook. But he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity. He grinned rakishly. "Oh? Do tell."
She chuckled. "Well...I myself fear Iranian invasion. The good mother only knows what goes through those crazy imams' heads. Plus I'm a major stock holder in many Roman arms manufacturers. No doubt that would increase the value of my portfolio."
"Indeed it would. So what has you shying away from supporting me in my bid?"
She shrugged. "Should you fail, for whatever reason, I could find myself broke and bleeding in some Athenian alleyway, a fate that I'd like to avoid."
Romano nodded. "Indeed you could. But the odds against that are high, I can assure you."
"I'm sure you can."
A man from the other table beside Romano and Giannopoulos's leaned over and whispered into Romano's ear. "Generale Romano, I think you've been here too long. There are many windows around here, and an assassin could be staking out in any one of them. I think it's time we go."
"Yes, yes, Gianni," Romano whispered back, with a bit of annoyance. "Well, Alecia, my security personel tell me it's time we leave. Perhaps we should meet another time? Perhaps with finer dining?"
She smiled. "Perhaps. You have my hotel phone number. Give me a call."
"I'll pay," Romano said. He reached into his pocket to get his checkbook, which fell to the ground after he fished around. He chuckled and blushed. "Excuse me." He bent over to the ground to get it.
A shot rang out. Nico Romano felt the air above him disturbed. Instinctively, he dropped to the pavement. "Alecia, get down!" he yelled. He looked over to see her chair fall backwards, her face frozen in shock as blood pooled from a hole in her neck. Screams rang out as people dropped, except for the four people in the adjacent tables, who leaped out of their chairs and whipped out submachine guns. They immediately began shooting, shouting orders to each other. "Second floor, third one in!" shouted a female voice above the din. "Let's go!" Their feet began pounding across the street. "Hold your fire! We might hit civilians!"
Romano stayed on the ground for about a minute. He suddenly heard in the building across the street shouting, pistol shots, submachine-gun fire, then more silence. At that point, he figured it was safe to get up and find out what was going on. Pushing himself off the ground, nearly leaping to his feet, he darted across the street, into the building, up the stairwell, and down the hallway to the open door. He saw inside the room his security detail pouring over ever crack and cranny, and on the floor a crumpled and bloody body of a man with a pistol by his hand, a rifle leaning against the open window. "Is it safe for me to come in?" he called.
"We believe the danger is gone," the female voice said. "You may come in, Generale."
He stepped in cautiously, approaching the body slowly, as if at any moment it might twitch its arms and strangle him. The man's eyes were dark and large, and looked off into nothing stoicly. His chest was torn with bulletholes. He likely didn't live ten seconds.
Romano touched the body, moving it to the side to get a look. He noticed on his arm, underneath one of the short sleaves of his shirt, a red shape. He lifted the sleave to see a red tatoo of the hammer and sickle, surrounded by a Roman wreath.
"Carmela!" Romano called out. "Have a look at this!" Carmela, a dark-haired, olive skinned Sicilian came from the bathroom in the room to Romano's side, bending over to look at the tatoo. "What do you think of this? Looks like he's with the PCR [Partito Comunista di Roma, Roman Communist Party]."
Carmela squinted her eyes at the tatoo. "I don't think so," she said. She walked back to the bathroom, wet a towel in the sink, then returned. She rubbed the tatoo vigorously with the towel, and when she lifted it, most of the tatoo was gone. "Whoever is responsible is trying to frame the PCR. Whatsmore, how could the PCR know where you were going to be? It's not like you were at a public event. No, this assassin likely stored his supplies here before you arrived."
"Should we ask the owner?"
"That would likely be uninformative. But who would know that you would be here?"
Romano pondered it for a second. Then it hit him. "Alecia Giannopoulos was staying in a hotel, likely paid for by the PRR. She had no other business with them. That must mean that..."
"I'd be willing to wager you anything," Carmela said, "the PRR is behind this."
Romano looked into Carmela's eyes, then chuckled. "Let's watch Consul Leonardo Costa squirm when we call him out. He just handed me victory."
To: The USACS
From: The Roman Republic
We too hope for peace on the Mediterranean. We're glad you share this goal.
OOC: I'm not really looking for acronyms like that. Perhaps just the European Pact would work.