Venice, 1880: A late-night chase through the shadowed

side-streets of cheery Carnival -- where neither the

quarry nor the champions are quite what they seem…

Ohhh…

ahhh…

Oohhh…

That’s it, stain her…

soil her from head to toe…

I don’t want to see an

inch left clean!

Don’t stop,

little piggies…

not until I

say so!

That’s right…

…keep going…

…going…

Gone! HaHaHaHaHa!

N…no…

Now you’re all

dirtied up! Like

a proper pig!

You like that

blood, whore?

aaahhh!!!

You’ll have to do

whatever I say. When

I say it and the way

I say it.

Which language do

you get “yes” in! But one

thing I’d like to know

is your name. Is that

allowed?

Gabriel.

Enchanté.

And now that

you’re sure, you

should know…

…the slaughtered

cop is my work.

?!

It’s yesterday’s

news. Nothing for you

to worry about.

Anyway, everyone

believes the

“official” version.

Alas, we couldn’t

avoid the death of one

of your kin. I express the

department’s deepest

regrets.

Your cops know

they can’t kill the

Hunter, hmm?

“It’s once upon a time too many,

Giustinian. It’s too hot, too cold,

it’s just not right.”

As for tonight’s

revelries, we removed

all evidence. No girl,

no man, no cop,

not a trace.

We found the

families, too -- and

their price. They

won’t tell any

stories.