Remorse

by CommanderJaeger

The period of mafia has begun and Giotto, with his young 23 years, has still many things to learn. But when he receives a mysterious letter that threatens his family, he realizes he has to learn them quickly. [Extract]:"You're his Right-Hand Man! His appearence is also important!", Elena responded strictly. "Yeah, I'm his Right-Hand", the Guardian of Storm snorted, "not his wife."

Prologue

There's a room where the light won't find you
Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down
When they do I'll be right behind you

Giotto sighed as he loosed his tie. It was a shame to spend a wonderful, sunny day like this in his office where he had to answer letters from different applicants who desperately wanted to make a contract with his family. They couldn't wait to form a strong partnership with ›the great and wise Vongola Primo‹, as the letters said but despite Giotto's young age of 23 years he wasn't stupid. Of course he knew the reason behind all those invitations which were brought with the mailing so he literally wasn't able to safe himself from all the banquets and balls that people prepared for him and his guardians. As he leaned back in his massive armchair, he threw a longing look out of the big window in his office. The sky shone in a bright blue and only a few shreds of clouds occasionally crossed the picture. As much as the young Vongola wanted to leave the room and go outside, he knew as soon as G. would spot him, it'd be a lot of trouble for him. He didn't have another chance but to sit obediently in front of his work and to do his writings. Of course he could exaggerate everything and sulk about everything; to deny all work. Maybe this would be his ticket into freedom.

The knock on the blonde's door made him stop thinking about escaping, when no one else but the Guardian of Storm and the Vongola Primo's Right-Hand Man entered the room, one hand fillled with more letters and in the other he held a cup with steaming coffee between his slim fingers of a pianist. As he found Giotto slumped in his armchair, the red haired just frowned.

»I want to go out of here«, Giotto grumbled while G. closed the entrance behind him and walked further into the room. »Stop whining«, his best friend responded mercilessly and threw the next bunch of letters on the dark mahogany table, »there's still plenty waiting for you, Primo.«

Without looking at the blonde, G. took a slip of his coffee and turned to leave. Only the firm grip of Giotto's hand on the fabric of his shirt made him stop. »At least leave me some coffee«, Giotto demanded exhausted, his head laid on the cool wood of his work place, while his fingers were dug firmly in G.'s shirt and so detained him from moving. The young mafiosi heard how his friend sighed in defeat, then the dull sound of the cup hitting the surface in front of him. Not showing G. his victorious grin, Giotto let him go. Without looking he pulled one envelope in front of him and opened it. With a rather haunted look he took the writing and glanced briefly at it.

Immediately, Giotto sat up.

»G., wait!«

Called man, his hand was about to reach the doorknob, stopped in his tracks and turned around. His face showed a questioning but also an annoying look. »What is it now? If you made up new excuses, then-« G. fell silent as he saw the black and white letters which somebody put together randomly. Even from this distance he was able to read the words.

VonGolA prImO!

thIs iS a WaRNinG!
We wiLL coME tO deStrOy yoU aND yoUR famIly
SooN thE voNGoLA wilL noT exiST anYmORE.

PrAY

With wide eyes, Giotto looked at his Right-Hand Man, who nodded mutely and rushed out of the room as the bells of the church nearby tolled.

So glad we've almost made it
So sad we had to fade it
Everybody wants to rule the world