My cousin and I are on the run because we killed someone in Venice, and I can still feel the blood spraying from his throat. We desperately need to rest and get rid of evidence, so we choose a random, empty-looking house, we shower and change and are about to leave when a woman appears on the door. She’s around sixty, has short hair and glasses, looks like Phyllis Smith. We’re petrified for a moment, thinking we got caught, but luckily the woman is short sighted and mistakes us for her own nieces! She sees we showered and that we are carrying black garbage bags (to get rid of evidence!) and, bless her soul, just assumes we must have had our periods. She tells us to not worry because “it’s perfectly normal” and that we can use her house whenever we need. “See,” says my cousin as we leave. “Peace of cake.”

My siblings are now tagging along because they’re also murderers. We have found the perfect hiding spot: we’re sailing along the good guys’ ship, so massive they’ll never notice the small boat hiding literally under their noses. Or at least, we think we’re safe, but a government agent storms into the boat and easily defeats all of us! We think we are doomed, but to our surprise he offers us to become state-sanctioned assassins. We quickly take the offer.