The Gallery.

Few days later.

The moon, a pearl low in the inky velvet sky, cast an ethereal glow over the city's cobblestone streets. Parked discreetly in the shadow of an ancient stone wall, a sleek black automobile hummed like a caged beast. Inside, Bianca sat in the back, her face veiled in a delicate spiderweb of lace that only heightened the mystique of her tailored ensemble. Beside her, Silvana fidgeted, worry etched on her brow.

"Are you certain about seeing Benito tonight, Bianca?" Silvana whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the hushed night.

Bianca's eyes, the only part of her face visible, glittered with steely determination. "Absolutely necessary, Silvana. This is the linchpin of the entire operation."

Silvana bit her lip, her gaze flitting nervously to the dimly lit facade of the gallery. "But what if things go awry? What if..."

Before Silvana could finish her frantic question, Bianca reached out and grasped her hand, her grip firm and unwavering. "If I vanish tonight," Bianca said in a low, controlled voice, "don't let panic cloud your judgment. No alarms, no police. Don't jeopardize the plan."

Silvana's fear deepened, a shadow flickering across her eyes. 'What is she planning? This feels...wrong,' she thought, a shiver dancing down her spine. "Bianca, I can't simply remain idle. What if you're not back by sunrise?"

Bianca released her hold, her voice unwavering but laced with a touch of impatience. "Remain calm, Signorina Silvana. Have faith in my strategy. If dawn breaks and I haven't returned, simply be patient. And most importantly," her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "promise me, Signorina Silvana, that you will do nothing to compromise the plan."

Silvana, trapped in a web of worry and loyalty, could only manage a reluctant nod. "I promise," she murmured, a tremor in her voice. "But please, Bianca, be cautious."

A ghost of a smile, devoid of warmth, touched Bianca's lips. "Don't worry, Signorina. I shall handle myself with finesse."

With that, Bianca emerged from the car, the soft click of her heels a rhythmic counterpoint to the hushed murmurs of the night. Silvana followed close behind, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach as they approached the shadowed entrance of the gallery. 

***

The wan glow of the gallery's lights cast skeletal shadows across the elegant courtyard, a stark contrast to the tense silence simmering within a nearby alley. Here, nestled in a discreet black automobile, sat Achille, his jaw clenched tight. Across the street, another car held Lorenzo and Enzo, their gazes fixed on the gallery's entrance like hungry hawks. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city and Enzo's impatient drumming on his knees. 

Lorenzo grumbled, fiddling with his tie. "Fantastico," he muttered, "Stuck here babysitting while I could be serenading the ladies with a song or two." 

Enzo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Enough whining, cugino. Get on with it already, I'm about to gnaw this skull clean from boredom!"

Lorenzo shot him a withering look before pulling out a meticulously sketched map of the gallery, which he drew out himself. He and Enzo meticulously went over the plan one last time with Achille via hidden earpieces.

"Alright, Listen closely," Lorenzo began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The gallery has three key checkpoints: the front door, the main hall, and the private viewing room. Guards rotate every fifteen minutes, like clockwork.

" Here's the layout." He pointed to a side entrance on the map. "Achille, you slip in through this side door the moment the front guards are distracted."

Achille's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Understood. What's the signal?"

A sly grin spread across Enzo's face as he held aloft the skull. "Leave that to me, cugino. Once I create a little 'diversion' at the front entrance, those guards won't know what hit them. Smooth sailing for you, cugino." 

Achille acknowledged the plan with a terse nod, determination hardening his features. He adjusted his hat and stepped out of the car, a predator melting into the shadows. The cool night air carried the faint scent of damp stone and old plaster, a familiar comfort to his practiced senses. 

Enzo, with the skull cradled possessively in his arms, emerged from Lorenzo's car. He glided towards the gallery entrance, his black coat billowing behind him. The two guards, bundled in their ill-fitting uniforms, eyed him with suspicion, their breath puffing out in frosty clouds in the chill night air.

"Hold on there," one of them barked, hand instinctively reaching for the nightstick at his hip. "This ain't no public park after dark. Looking for trouble?"

Enzo's smile, devoid of warmth, sent shivers down the guards' spines. "Trouble? No, signori (gentlemen)," he rasped, his voice laced with a chilling theatricality. "I seek only beauty. But of a different kind."

The guards exchanged a wary glance. Beauty? This gaunt figure with eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight?

 "If you're looking to view the art pieces here then no, this is no public viewing hour, come back tomorrow morning." The second guard explained.

Enzo stopped, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Art? No, art holds no interest for me," he said, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down the guards' spines. He tilted his head, his eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity. "But perhaps you can tell me... can you see her?" He thrust the skull forward, its empty sockets seeming to bore into their souls. "My sister... isn't she beautiful?"

The guards exchanged a bewildered glance.

They squinted, unsure what game he was playing. But an unsettling feeling gnawed at them, like a fly buzzing around their skulls.

 When they didn't answer, Enzo's smile vanished, replaced by a mask of dark fury.

"Those blind to her beauty," he hissed, his voice dropping to a guttural growl, "shall be afflicted with a mind-poison called illusion! A torment that shall gnaw at your very soul!" He paused dramatically, a theatrical shudder wracking his frame as the skull's eyes socket, seemed to flicker with an unholy light. "Frightful, isn't it? Now, tell me... what do you see?"

The guards, mesmerized by the grotesque spectacle, found their perception warping. The skull morphed into a monstrous cobra, its fangs bared in a silent scream, its body coiling sinuously before them. It detached itself from Enzo's grasp, slithering closer with a terrifying hiss. Panic seized the guards. They stumbled back, their bravado replaced by a primal fear.

The guards, paralyzed with fear, stumbled backwards. Their screams died in their throats, replaced by a terrified whimper. Enzo, his voice now a demonic growl, leaned in close. "Fear not, signori," he hissed. "By morning, you won't remember a thing."

With a final, chilling cackle, Enzo shoved the guards aside, each collapsing into a heap like discarded marionettes. 

Enzo, a satisfied glint in his eyes, tucked the skull back under his arm and gave a thumbs-up to the car where Lorenzo sat, sweat beading on his brow. "Looks like they won't be needing their coffee break anytime soon," he thought, a morbid chuckle escaping his lips. " Anyways, thank goodness there are no witnesses."

Meanwhile, Enzo, with a casual flick of his wrist, effortlessly dragged each guard, one-handed, out of sight behind a dumpster. He then strolled back to the car, a chillingly nonchalant grin plastered on his face.

Lorenzo spoke into the earpiece. "The coast is clear, cugino. You can come in now."

A gruff reply crackled through the speaker. "Alright," said Achille, his voice a low rumble. He moved with practiced ease towards the entrance, ready to slip into the gallery like a phantom.