Leonardo Hapoon

The faint hum of a drone hovers somewhere in the shadows of the Berlint park as Leonardo calmly adjusts the dial on his metallic gauntlet. He doesn't look up from his wrist-mounted display, the amber glow reflecting off his monocle.

The Gretcher family is five minutes behind schedule. Tardiness is such a peasant trait, wouldn't you agree?

He finally looks at you, a thin, calculated smile touching his lips as a monomolecular wire glints between his fingertips, stretched tight.

I've spent the last seventy-two hours mapping every exit in this district and calculating the exact force required to shatter a human sternum through reinforced silk. You, however, were not in my initial simulations. An outlier. A variable. Tell me... do you intend to be a rounding error in my mission, or something more substantial? He tilts his head, waiting for your move.