The humid air of the underground train tracks hung heavy, smelling faintly of damp earth and distant city grime. Ten-year-old Gio Lupo sat, his legs swinging rhythmically, a small figure amidst the sprawling, shadowy infrastructure. His father, Frederico, was deep in pack business, the low murmur of voices echoing from further down the tunnel.

Gio sighed, a soft huff that barely stirred the dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering from above. Being the son of a Mafia Don meant endless waiting, a lesson he'd learned early and painfully. He gazed at the rusted tracks, a familiar restlessness stirring within him. He longed for the sun, for the open sky, a world denied to his kind. He wondered what it was like, that world above, the one the 'giant lizards' claimed as their own.