Hello, Hello
So this is a mini-series that I just thought of few days ago, and my heart has been screaming at me to write it. It will only be six chapters long, and each chapter will be a one-shot devoted to each of the 9th's guardians.
One thing I will be doing is writing each shot in a different writing style, so I would really love opinions about this one.
And I'll just point out that each shot will be a different point in time for each of the guardians, and the relationships will be different for each one. Bah! I don't even know which guardian's I like more.
I'll try and bust these works out quick.
(lol, I think this one is the funniest of the set)
Protocol:
word count: 1,449
[I do not own any KHR characters]
=Advice/Comments are loved=
_Dee_
A rain softly drips in the town Ancona, and Visconti finally finds himself under the covered entryway of the Riviera de Cornero. He lets out a small snort while giving his trench coat a swift shake. The droplets fling off and the Cloud Guardian walks into the lobby. He gives the bellboy a small thank you nod for holding open the door for him.
Naturally hating the sounds of wet loafers squeaking against marble floors, the old man walks strait to the carpeted area while sliding his shades on top of his head. Then the hand that slid the glasses checks his oil-slicked hair. It all feels in place. A group of older women glance his way from what his peripheral can see. So in the midst of his tread to the elevator, he turns to them with a raised brow, nods his head courteously, and continues his personal mission. Women always have been his weakness.
A finger presses the metal doors shut. The elevator rises slowly. His foot taps to the song playing in the elevator. He's always enjoyed Paolo Conte. It isn't playing, but Aguaplano has always been his favorite song by him. Even with La Negra being the song playing currently, he hums his favorite verse of the song to himself. The young man standing next to him found the intimidating man to be very weird. Visconti returned the boy's stare. The dark-skinned teen looked away immediately.
The young boy's level came first. He quickly shuffled out. Then a woman with many kids tried to come in. Visconti not being a man that is fond of children quickly pointed his finger upward. No way in hell is the man going all the way down to the lobby with the rat pack, only to go back up. The woman huffs and the door shuts. Visconti sighs and rolls his eyes.
The elevator that usually binged to the arrival of its destination didn't this time. Visconti took it as a signal to use the stairs when leaving. To hell broken elevators, he thought, I've seen way too many of those stupid scary movies Ganauche likes to be so careless. He walks out and hears the elevator bing. He shakes his head.
Stupid elevator, he thought.
From here, it is the fourth door on the right. He walks casually. The floor is silent on this level. He nods in approval. Still walking. He stops, fourth door on the right. It's a forest green door with the number 914 nailed on. The numbers are a fake shiny gold. He knocks and waits patiently for an answer.
Nothing.
He knocks again, shifting his weight. She knows I'm coming over today, he thought. He waits a couple more moments. One of those moments is spent trying to look inside the peephole. Nope, it allows none to peek inside. This doesn't help the nonexistent patience that Visconti has developed over the years. He groans and knocks once more. He gets a response.
"Go the fuck away."
A man? He thought curiously. He knocks again.
"No one's home."
Visconti finds three things wrong with this situation. The first is that a man just said no one is home when someone is obviously there. I don't believe in ghosts, he thought. The second is that the only person supposed to be living here is his daughter—what the hell is a man responding to his knocks for? And the third is that he owns this apartment, he should be able to enter as he pleases.
His first assumption is that someone is robbing his daughter.
In this second his anger flares and he easily kicks the dead-bolted door down. He stomps in, and hears the man saying, "What the fuck was that?"
Visconti ascertains that the perpetrator is in the living room. He fearlessly treads forward. The man has a death wish. In the living room, a naked man is standing there. A hesitant stare is given in response to the Mafioso's glare.
Visconti takes two steps that the worried guy mirrors. But the worried guy wasn't expecting the Cloud Guardian to easily swing his arm forward, grabbing the perpetrator's face and throwing him into the couch like a rag doll. The couch flips over and the naked man flies into the wall. "Who the fuck are you."
The guy is groaning while trying to stand.
Visconti grabs his shoulder and punches him in the face. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment."
"DAD THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!"
Three people sit at a small kitchen table. Two sit awkwardly, one has frozen vegetables pressed against their swollen cheekbone, and Visconti is glaring at the whiner. "This is your boyfriend?"
"Dad."
"Looks like a fucking loser."
The daughter glares. "Dad!"
"He's a whiner too."
The once naked guy, now in boxers, stays quiet.
The daughter groans. "Will you knock it off?"
Visconti slams his fist on the table.
The guy flinches back. He doesn't want to get punched again.
Clara gets even angrier and knocks the table too.
Visconti is not fazed like the whimpy boy.
There is silence between the three. There are raindrops outside. There is the sound of a leaky faucet coming from the kitchen sink. Visconti wonders why his daughter never informed him of the obvious repairs her apartment needs. He decide to roam into that subject after his next comment:
The cloud clears his throat. "Sorry. I guess you can't help you are—even if happens to be a wimp."
"Dad, what the fuck?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "What?" He's always been a crass one too.
"You can stop with the insults."
"Hey, if he's not happy with what he is, then it's up to him to change."
The guy remains quiet, now understanding why Clara never wanted him to meet Visconti.
Clara rolls her eyes and Visconti changes the subject, "So why haven't you told me about the obvious repairs this place needs?"
"Well I only see a wall that needs to be patched. It's a perfect indention of Zetico."
He cocks a brow. "That's his name?" That's a terrible name, he thought.
"Yeah, it is."
"Well I won't get into that. It's not his fault, but I see no need for you to be upset about the wall either."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. I thought you were being robbed."
"What a crock of shit."
"It's the truth. Plus, I am the one that has paid for everything in here, and I will be the one fixing all of the stuff here."
"You think that just cause you can shuffle money my way that you can do whatever you want?"
"I didn't say that. And I don't see your mom helping out at all."
"Mom is having her own issues."
"Like usual."
Clara is getting extremely pissed with her dad's presence, and Visconti is getting extremely pissed with Zetico's presence. Is the sap really going to sit there with his mouth shut the whole time? Visconti thinks this and immediately asks the boy. He also mentions that Zetico should have a little more backbone, especially if he's playing house with his daughter. The guy is only becoming more nervous with the situation.
"Dad—"
Visconti's phone vibrates. It is immediately answered. "Ciao."
Coyote responds, "Boss wants all of us to assemble at HQ. He says it's urgent."
"Got it. I'm two hours away."
Clara snorts. "Work?"
"Yeah, but you were about to kick me out. I just saved you letters."
"Whatever."
"Love you too."
The old man quickly and quietly strides to the door, leaving after grabbing his trench that is hung in the bathroom. He heads for the stairs and slips his trench on while shaking in head. He very much, disapproves of Zetico. I bet even Brow Nie could kick his ass, he thinks as the shades slip over his eyes.
Inside the apartment, Clara and Zetico sit in silence. Clara is all-around pissed with how everything went. Zetico is thinking that he should just leave. He's starting to notice how much the father and daughter are really alike. He does not like his future in this situation.
"Where are you going?" Clara asks after watching the bruised guy stand.
"I'm getting out of here."
"Why?"
"Cause your dad's a scary asshole, and you're kind of the same way."
Clara grabs the wimp by the ear and throws him out.
His clothes will make a toasty fire this evening.
=Ahh, and if you're wondering I've based all the guardians nationalities off the origin of the pastries they're named after. The only person's who isn't spot on is Brow Nie Jr's, whose pastry originates from good ole' Chicago, Illinois. I decided against making him from Chicago for the sheer fact that I didn't think any part of the Chicago metro fit the story concept I had in mind (Lol, I've been to Chicago in case any of you are like wtf?)=
Just some random extra info