Milan — Underground archives of the Palazzo di Giustizia
The dark corridor opened into a vast room forgotten by time.
Rusty shelves, heavy with yellowed folders, rose like rows of tombstones.
The air was thick with the stench of moldy paper and old oil.
Vera entered first, weapon drawn.
Luca and the others followed silently, eyes sharp for any movement.
In the center of the room, on a large iron table, lay several bound dossiers.
And among them, a heavy metal safe, dusty and grim.
Vera approached.
— This is the core — Luca whispered.
— Here lie the documents linking the racing teams, the mafia, and the judges — Enzo added, his voice thick with emotion.
They held in their hands the true weapon of the revolution.
The final proof.
While Vera struggled with the safe's lock, Enzo gathered scattered documents.
But time was running against them.
From the corridor behind them, the distant echo of armed footsteps pounded like a drum in Vera's chest.
— They've found us — Luca said gravely.
Vera looked at him, eyes burning with resolve.
— Then we get out with whatever we can.
She pulled a small improvised explosive charge from her backpack.
— If we can't open it... — she said, preparing the detonator — ...then we'll bring them down with it.
The spark of freedom was already burning.
And now, beneath tons of concrete, history was about to change.