A man ducks out of the hotel doors, coat flapping open, blond hair in disarray and glasses crooked. Definitely in a rush to meet the World's Greatest Hitman for a contract, already late since the hitman arbitrarily pushed up the time by two hours.

A freezing gust of wind cuts past and he pauses, chin tucking down and hand coming up to grab a scarf that isn't there. He looks back at the glass doors, peeks at his watch and then runs off without.

Lal spends another half an hour sitting at the cafe, sipping at a coffee. Skull obediently stays quiet and munches on a muffin next to her, scrubbed clean of his makeup and all of his piercings taken out. It was a struggle getting Skull into normal clothes but Fon held him down and Colonnello wrestled the polo T-shirt on.

Lal looks up from her newspaper to the hotel across the road from the café. She pushes up the glasses Verde lent her and they zoom in. The window reflects; the door to 374 open, a chipper looking old man sorting through his cleaning cart.

"Go," Lal says. "Hide it in the scarf, it was grey."

Skull licks crumbs off his lips and makes his way across the road. He winds his way up the stairs to avoid the cameras in the elevator, just like Lal warned, and knocks on the open door.

The cleaner looks up, mid-way through straightening the bed sheet. The man's eyes are sharp, scanning Skull quickly. This is a well-known Mafia hotel after all.

"Sorry," Skull laughs sheepishly. "I forgot my scarf."

"Not a problem!" the man cries, relaxing slightly at the complete lack-of-a-threat that Skull exudes. "Come in, come in, it's chilly out there today."

"I swear they said sunshine," Skull complains, slipping past the used bed linens and towels on the ground.

The man hums, tucking the sheet in but still partly focused on Skull. "They spin a wheel, I tell you. Can't trust those weather people."

Skull steps up to the suitcase sitting crookedly on the table, everything shoved inside in a rush. He tucks a dark green glasses case into the forgotten grey scarf with a sleight of hand.

"Hopefully it gets better," Skull chirps. He offers up another sheepish smile as he leaves, prize in his hands.

The cleaner waves him off cheerfully. "Stay warm today!"

Shamal kicks his legs, swinging himself on the hammock as Reborn types away at a laptop, using the identification Shamal stole for him to verify the microchip data he pried out from the lining of the sunglasses case.

"And you're sure he won't know you took it?" Reborn asks again, just to be sure because this is leading down a long rabbit hole and he doesn't want Shamal caught up in it.

"Yes!" Shamal complains. "Come on, I know how to pickpocket and I definitely know how to make an alibi." He flops down, staring at the ceiling of Reborn's apartment. "So what's this new job about?"

"I could tell you," Reborn muses.

Shamal shakes his head with a smile. "But then you'd have to kill me?"

"Got it in one," Reborn murmurs. He backtracks out of the webpage, pulls out the USB and stands.

"I'm sleeping here," Shamal says.

"Don't mess with Leon's popsicle stick castle, he gets territorial!" Reborn calls over his shoulder as he moves to grab his suit jacket hanging near the door.

"Are you coming back for dinner?"

Reborn pauses. "Yes." He shuts the door.

"This," Viper sighs, using seventeen tentacles to sort through stacks of blackmail folders. "Okay, so this dumbass asks me what credit card to get but she comes back two minutes later with 'oh they borrowed during the GFC'."

Viper rolls their eyes and the folders flying through the air around the room all do a little flip. "Everyone borrowed during the GFC and she was looking at America anyway, her country has a subsidiary form."

"Ridiculous," Lal deadpans, sitting slumped against the inside of the giant vault room, currently underneath one of Viper's safe houses.

Luce is zoned out off to the side, eyes blank.

"Exactly!" Viper cries, dropping a useless folder as a tentacle gives them another to skim read through. "Then she comes back asking about bonds and I tell her hell no. She has the gall to say 'yeah but you're a TFC enthusiast'. Well then, bitch, I'm thinking about killing myself, could you give me some advice - and don't tell me not to because I know you're a living enthusiast!"

Skull's head bobs, eyes slipping closed.

"Is truth serum a real thing yet?" Colonnello wonders because that would make the situation a lot simpler. He crosses his arms and slumps against the wall of the COMSUBIN interrogation room – that technically doesn't exist, as Lal repeatedly stressed to them when she handed over the key.

"Yes, but it's really more like LSD," Verde explains pushing up his glasses and peering at the still unconscious man handcuffed to the chair. "Just lowers inhibitions, makes them keep talking."

"No, there is one," Reborn cuts in. "You just to have to tie them down, cover their face with a rag, and then keeping pouring it over their heads."

Fon tilts his head. "I'm pretty certain that's called water-boarding."

"Are you sure?" Reborn asks in a mild tone. "I mean it all works the same."

"They were corporate prices," Viper continues smugly, lifting out the correct folder. "Plus I got discounts from price matching to another store owned by the same person-"

Luce starts to slump to the side.

"Hey! I can see your eyes glazing over and I haven't even gotten to the gift cards yet!"

"-swear I didn't know," the man gasps, a distinctly polish flare to his accent.

"Lie," Reborn hums.

The man stutters, shoulders hunching as he just realises that Reborn is standing behind him. Metal rattles as he pulls at the handcuffs around his wrists, skin already red from the friction. "They told me but - I. Not the whole thing, I still didn't understand what it really meant-"

"Lie."

The man flinches, brown hair flopping into his face, and stares pleadingly to the other three. "I'm telling the truth, please-"

Fon smiles politely. "Of course. Reborn, come now, you're scaring him."

Reborn rolls his eyes.

Fon pushes off the wall and walks up to the man who straightens up, looking hopeful at seeing such a nice smile on Fon's face.

Fon holds the man's wrist, fingers over the pulse. "Repeat what you just said."

The man pauses. "I…" He looks down at the grip on him. "I didn't understand. W-what it meant."

"Lie," Fon murmurs. He breaks a finger.

The man screams, jerking in his seat but the chair is bolted down. "Wait, wait! Let me – just wait."

Fon is still smiling. "Would you like my nice friend Reborn to watch you, or shall I continue instead?"

"Reborn," the man gasps. "I want Reborn."

The hitman frowns. "I would like to make it clear that I'm just as scary as Fon."

Colonnello raises an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like it from here."

Reborn huffs. "Verde, scratch that from the record."

Verde is sitting off to the side, his glasses recording this and automatically translating the audio into a script. "Can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Reborn complains, walking over. "Give me the stupid glasses."

Colonnello steps in between. "Let's get through this then you can have the glasses, or run around somewhere making more orphans, whatever you want."

Reborn scoffs. "You say that as if I don't kill children as well."

"Alright," Colonnello says firmly. "And now I just feel bad."

"I make it quick."

"Please stop talking."

The man shuffles in his chair. "I would like the blond."

Colonnello scowls. "I'm Colonnello! Do you really not know me? I've been hanging with these assholes from almost the start!"

The man stays quiet because he feels like he's about to get slapped if he doesn't.

"Son of a bitch," Colonnello hisses.

"What do you do with the bodies?" Skull asks, reading through the transcript Verde was talking down during the little chat they had in a COMSUBIN room that definitely doesn't exist. Skull was not allowed to watch the video.

The stuntman is actually expecting a sarcastic remark about stuffing the heads and mounting them on the wall. But instead, Reborn looks thoughtful.

"Generally it's a long process," the hitman admits. "I call some people, sometimes loners or companies depending on the area. I'm a gold class member with most cleaners so identities and anything worth value on the corpses are taken and sold. That's more of an extra service because the money made from that comes back to me as a kind of bonus."

The rest are staring now, eyes wide.

"Then the actual body disposal comes into play," Reborn continues. "If possible, the organs are donated to different hospitals or they're given to science fields as cadavers - that's Shamal's influence on me I suppose. And that happens because I ticked those boxes but there are more options depending on the company."

Reborn waves a hand through the air. "The left-over corpses -too badly damaged or high profile and likely to be caught- are actually turned into fertiliser. There's this little apple orchard out by Florence, run by a lovely couple, and their fruit just tastes better. You should visit them sometime."

Reborn shrugs. "That's how I take care of it, but most people just leave the corpses around, plus it might be different in other countries. Sometimes the hits I get specify that I leave the body in a certain way but generally I clean up after myself, simply because I don't want to waste a perfectly good corpse."

"Huh," Skull says slowly.

"We do some of that in China," Fon states. "Mostly the organs are sold on the black market, but other than that the bodies are burned."

Verde frowns. "Actually, I've bought some of your corpses before."

Reborn smiles happily. "Perfect little holes right between the eyes? That's me! Eight-point-five millimetres."