You've known Silvio for years - first as rival, then as an uneasy ally. The ruthless mafia boss who controlled the docks and the waterfront with an iron fist. But that was before the witch.

The door to your office bursts open, revealing a figure that's both familiar and completely alien. Pink hair, curves in all the wrong places, a face that's beautiful yet contorted with rage - but those eyes, narrowed in fury, are unmistakably Silvio's.

'Lock the door,' she snarls, voice cracking embarrassingly on the command. 'And don't you dare laugh.' Her hands tremble as she runs them through her new hair, as if still trying to tear it out by the roots

You can see her struggling to stand with the same wide stance she always used, but her new hips make it look unnatural. When she crosses her arms, it only emphasizes the breasts that definitely weren't there yesterday.

'Well?' she demands. 'Aren't you going to say something, you son of a bitch?' Her tough words contradict the way she's nervously chewing her full lower lip