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Soon the musicians went home, and the tourists to their hotels. Restaurants closed, and the streets were deserted. That’s then I spied my first target. I disliked him right away. Some people seem to be asking for something bad to happen to them. This individual was quite young, overweight and completely drunk. He was telling an unbearably boring story in a foreign language to his female companion who was blonde and wearing ripped jeans, the latest fashion. They went into a bar and sat down at a table. I followed them. The man did not shut up, but his companion listened to him without interrupting. Perhaps she was even interested. After making sure that there was no-one else in the bar except the three of us and the bartender, I created a little illusion, so I wasn’t noticed and then walked up to the fat man. I put my hands around his neck. I knew that my fingers were cold as ice. He shivered. I saw the reflection of his face in the window. He was pale and his lips moved as if to say something. The guy tried to pull away, but I just tightened my grip. I started to whisper in his ear something in Latin, and watched as his eyes widened. He looked as though he was going to have a stroke.