Mezzofinelli was an assassin. In fact, he liked telling people, he was the most dangerous assassin on this side of the ocean. When people asked him which ocean he meant, he would simply reply "All of them." He had shot a man from more than a mile away, right between the eyes. He had killed no less than three of his colleagues in a single night. He had beaten a heavyweight boxer to death with his bare fists. Granted, he had walked away with a black eye and three broken ribs, but at least he had walked. All in all, he fancied himself a pretty dangerous guy. So why, he wondered, was he having so much trouble getting hold of a briefcase?
Mezzofinelli was born from his Italian mother who had fled Italy in 2080, a month after the Intercontinental War had started. In the cold, cramped depths of a ship headed for Sussex, she died in labour and Mezzofinelli was born screaming and motherless into a strange and tumultuous world. His earliest memory was of a man - a giant clad in white - who carried him onto shore. He remembered the taste and smell of the sea; salty and sharp. It burned in his nose and throat. He remembered little else of his first years. He knew that the giant in white (probably a sailor from the ship) had taken him to the nearest orphanage and left him there.