AN: Just as a general note: considering that this is a Mafia AU, this fic might contain some mild violence, gore, and torture, but nothing excessive. I'll update the ratings if I feel it's necessary. On with the fic!

Angela Ziegler raised her shoulders, snuggling deeper in the large, soft scarf piled about her neck. The winter winds kissed her cheeks, bringing new-fallen snowflakes to dust her lashes. She quickened her step, snow crunching beneath her new boots.

Winter in Paris was a sight to behold. She did enjoy the clarity that summer brought to the city, but the image of the black skyline covered in a blanket of white was a thing she found most calming. Oftentimes she'd sit in the round window of her flat with a mug of steaming hot chocolate and gaze out on the magnificent view.

Hot chocolate sounds good about now, she thought, rummaging around in her pocket for her keys. Unfortunately she wouldn't be able to sit in her window today; she had to finish writing the latest article on the nanobots she created a year ago. It had been a month since she'd published the last one and it was about time she kicked herself into finishing this next one.

Angela could practically hear the booming voice of her beloved grandfather bouncing around in her head. "I buy you this flat in Paris so you have a place to vacation and you spend your time there working, Angela!"

She couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory of her last conversation with Grandfather Reinhardt. "Opa, you know I love you, but you also know how busy I am. I can't just stop; too many people are waiting on my research—"

"Research be damned, Angela. I'm telling Torbjörn to schedule you a jet for tonight. Pack your things; the car will arrive around 6pm and I better not find one scrap of paper in your luggage."

She'd sighed, switching the phone to her other ear. "Alright Opa," Angela had said, defeated.

That was almost two weeks ago. He called every evening to wish her a goodnight, to argue with her about working, to make sure she had enough money to buy whatever she wanted ("Don't you be pinching your pennies either—no granddaughter of mine is going to go around worrying about money, especially not while she's in Paris!"). She'd sent him pictures of all the cute clothes she'd bought herself last week and he'd heartedly approved of her all her choices.

He doesn't need to know about the article, she told herself, unlocking the door to the building and making her way to the elevator. I'll just tell him I wrote it on the way back to Switzerland.

Angela shifted the bag of groceries she was holding so she could press the button for her floor. As the elevator began its ascent, the doctor tried brushing the snow off her clothes only to find the spare flakes had already melted in the heat of the building lobby, leaving her hair and shoulders damp. "I'll have to throw you in the dryer," she said to her grey coat.

The second she stepped off the elevator, she stopped. At the moment, she didn't know why. Angela looked around the marble elevator hall. Nothing appeared to be out of place, but for some reason the hair on the back of her neck was prickling. She had to make a conscious effort to begin the walk out of the elevator hall and down the hall to her flat door. Each step she made felt heavier and heavier, as if a veil of foreboding was thrown over her.

She gave herself a good shake and said it was just the cold air creeping down her spine. Nothing was out of place; the passage looked just as it always did. What was this sudden feeling of alarm? She unlocked the flat door and burst in to prove to herself that she was worrying for nothing.

Angela got a quick look of her utterly demolished residence before someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a chloroform-soaked rag to her face. She put up a brief, feeble fight before everything went black.

AN: This chapter is very short but the next one will be up shortly :D Reviews are greatly appreciated!