Marco wasn't quite sure what happened in his life to cause him to suddenly find himself in the position of having to orchestrate and murder another human being. It started off as a move to increase his own chance of survival, and he entertained a fancy notion that he could both be part of a cold-blooded mercenary gang and continue being just another harmless kid trying to stay alive. But then he got the assignment and an incredibly brief briefing. And then he went back to running pizzas.

For a couple of days, he just redirected his delivery routes to put him closer to his target, doing equal parts observation and psyching himself up to the task. Finally, he got to a point where he needed to take another step.

That step was, apparently, calling for help.

He was too paranoid to make contact with any of the other unknown initiates; the less he had to deal with his fellow mercenaries, the more plausible deniability he had. Besides, he didn't have much of a read on any of them. Except for one. Even if that read was 'creeper, possibly pedo, probably furry in denial'. Better the devil you know, right?

So at the end of his delivery shift, he grabbed one of the pizzas off the discard pile (anchovies and onions) and beelined for Arthur's apartment. The door suffered a long series of impatient taps.