A/N : After falling in love with the Dresden Files, I decided to write a short behind the scenes bit for one of my favorite characters, Johnny Marcone. Thought it would be fun to take a peek into the character when he isn't dealing with supernatural baddies and Harry.
Characters: Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Hendricks, Harry Dresden (mentioned), OFCs, and OMC
A Professional Monster
The girl was found in her bathroom. The door was locked and the mirrors still covered in steam when the police found her. Her roommate, another dancer, had called the police when she couldn't get the door open. The police found her a tub full of blood and an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the floor beside her. After taking a handful of pills, she had sliced her wrists, a quick and efficient manner of suicide. She probably barely felt anything as she passed. At least, that was what John thought.
The girl, Camille (likely not her real name), had been an exotic dancer at one of the clubs he owned. A pretty little thing that had been gaining popularity among some of the club's regulars. The manager had even been thinking of giving her a pay bump. John didn't know her personally, but the manager felt he should be informed before it leaked to the papers. It wouldn't due to be directly connected to a dead stripper even as her file sat on his desk. By tomorrow morning, a whole new backstory would be laid out for the coroner and any family she might still have. They might even be able to make it look like an accident. Something more dignified than this sad end. Everyone deserved a little dignity.
Hendricks and the manager were talking with the officer now, the sergeant who was willing to look the other way on several previous cases, likely making sure that the report passed his desk first before being handed over to the captain of his precinct. Hendricks had tried to talk him out of coming to the scene. He was becoming too widely recognized in the world of legitimate business to be seen at the home of one of his employees who had worked the seedier side. Normally, he'd listen to Nathan, the man had a genius level IQ and had saved his ass more times than he dared admit. But not today. Something about this young woman's death pulled him here. Maybe it was her age? She had only been twenty. No, that wasn't it, he'd seen younger people die without flinching.
John slipped into the bathroom. The room was empty now, the coroner had gone to get his assistant and a stretcher. The girl was still in the tub, covered up to her collarbones in bloody, congealing fluid. She was so pale and blue it made her look even younger. Her long dark hair was hanging out of the tub, blessedly clean in comparison. Her eyes were half closed and empty, the dark brown hue almost black in the fluorescent lighting. He felt like he should close those eyes, give her that last measure of peace.
"Boss" Hendricks was standing behind him now, "we should go." John nodded, fighting the urge to give that final rite. The coroner would likely do that before they moved her to the morgue. Besides, as far as the paperwork was concerned, she wasn't his problem anymore.
"Is everything taken care off, Mr. Hendricks?" Nathan handed him a manila folder, "Jennifer Lance, secretary for a struggling law firm and a history of severe clinical depression, this is quite thorough." A whole life created on paper. "I assume the sergeant has a copy as well?"
"And the coroner." The two silently leave the shabby apartment building and leave in a sleek, but non-descript black Cadillac. Nathan doesn't ask where he wants to go. He doesn't need to. The drive to John's penthouse is quiet, only interrupted by the sound of John flipping through the file.
John thinks about the young woman and what might have driven her to end her own life. Humans are many things, but predictable is not always one of them. People may follow patterns and routines for years and even decades, but can stop in an instant. They got derailed and never found their way back. Maybe it was a bad relationship, or drugs, or mental illness, or a combination thereof. Or maybe it was none of these things. Maybe she just wanted an escape from her existence. Maybe she looked one too many times in the mirror with disgust and decided she couldn't endure it anymore. Nathan probably has a philosophical opinion or three on the matter. Maybe something he can add to that never ending thesis of his.
Nathan drops him off with a friendly good night and says he'll pick him up at 7 tomorrow for the meeting with the contractors from New York. Business as usual.
As the elevator opens into the bottom floor of his two level penthouse suite, the warm smell of grilled vegetables wafts over to greet him. It would seem a home cooked meal is on the menu tonight. John sheds his coat and removes his tie as he heads into the kitchen. It is currently being invaded by a short woman and her spatula. She has her back turned and is busy tossing some salad. She has no idea a deadly predator is behind her. Not until it is far too late.
John smiles, like a hungry jungle cat, and creeps up to wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace. She squeaks and nearly drops the bowl of fresh leafy greens she was fixing. She relaxes against him as he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth in apology.
"Mi dispiace mia carissima. Ti ho spaventato?" She twists in his arms as she turns to face him.
"No, non realmente." She leans up to kiss him fully and properly. He can't help but sigh in contentment when their lips meet. How does she do that? Just condense the world down to their apartment and help lock everything nasty and dark behind their threshold. He's certain Nathan would give six months wages to know. "Stai bene, Vanni?"
"Sì, è stata una lunga giornata." She gives a small smile and returns to her cooking. "e tu, Nadia?" They speak both Italian and English in the home, though Nadia sometimes has difficulty understanding him if he speaks too fast. Still, she has improved greatly over the last few years.
"Busy, it's flu season, so everyone is lining up to get their shot. Oh, and there's talk off the mayor coming by to visit the children's hospital. Is it true that he's a bit….eccentric?" John can barely contain his laughter at the image of a loud, obnoxious, non-censored, Emmanuel visiting children for a photo-op. Well, at the very least, it would probably make some of the kids laugh.
"I do believe that would be one way to describe him." Nadia shakes her head, "just don't ask him his opinion on anything. He will tell you, in true sailor fashion." It is looking at her from behind he begins to realize why the young girl's death has troubled him so. Camille, or whatever her true name was, looked similar to Nadia in the sense that both were that old Renaissance beauty with high cheekbones and delicate angles. Even their hair was similar, though Nadia's was several shades lighter than Camille's near black. It also brought about the echo of old nightmares, of coming home to find Nadia dead or gone. Ones that still kept him awake at times. Not that he would ever tell anyone. Gentleman Johnny couldn't afford to be seen as weak. Gentleman Johnny ruled the underworld of Chicago with an iron fist, controlling the darker elements that human nature often fell prey to. Gentleman Johnny, Baron of Chicago, kept the supernatural from devouring the innocent. He was the tiger with knives for claws and steel in his spine.
But that person didn't exist in this space. Not for the next few hours anyway. Instead, he could let go and be Giovanni. And Giovanni did have a weakness, her name was Nadia Matveenko. Amabile, amabile, Nadia. Hendricks had been telling him for years that she was liability, something his enemies could use a leverage against him. Nathan may like her, may even be fond of her, but if it came to protecting Chicago and it's liege lord, he wouldn't hesitate to act. If it came to that, John wasn't sure what he would do. Allow Nathan to carry out his duty or put a bullet through the man's skull for attempting to hurt his woman, he honestly couldn't say. He cared for both of them, two of the only people in this world who knew who he was and could still look him in the eyes without fear. Nathan, Gard, Nadia, Tommy once upon a time, and the wizard Harry Dresden. All of them acting as an anchor in some capacity. Without them, he wasn't certain he could keep the monster in control. Soft, delicate chains that kept the hungry beast from devouring the world. Or perhaps he had been reading too much Norse mythology again.
"Dinner's ready in fifteen," Nadia hasn't noticed him drifting off in his dark thoughts. He prefers it that way. It makes him doubly glad she's a mundane like him, no chance of soul gazing. He doesn't doubt her soul would be beautiful and full of light, something like Dresden's fiery white knight soul. John would love to see the soul behind those dark blue eyes, but he doesn't want her to see his. It's likely damaged and soiled, covered in layers of dirt and filth and blood. Something that would send a sane human being running in the other direction. No matter how much they may love him, they wouldn't stay after seeing that.
Dinner is a simple affair, nothing fancy, but the effort behind it makes it taste better than anything from one of Chicago's many fine establishments. Gard has told him about magic being based on intention, maybe the same applies to cooking. Something worth exploring at a later date. For right now, he's going to enjoy the meal and the company. They speak a little of their day, though he carefully leaves out certain parts, and the unseasonably warm weather. Other things, unimportant, trivial things that matter all the more because she smiles and laughs with him.
Later, the two of them are lying in bed. They've whispered their good nights and started to drift off to sleep, Nadia is already asleep by the time her head hits the pillow. Her shift starts early tomorrow, likely she'll be gone before he wakes. Sleep evades John though, as much as he hates to admit it, the girl is keeping him awake. Not her as a person, but what she represented. The underlying darkness that festers beneath the surface of his world. He's seen it take control of people, turn them into monsters running around in human skin. It eats them alive and spits them out without any ounce of tenderness. Some people fight it with every inch, refusing to let it get inside. They often end up checking out early. Whether by their own hands or someone else's. The darkness has burrowed it's way inside him and taken up a section of his being. It's kept in check for now, but a constant reminder of the professional monster he is.
In the stories, heroes like Harry Dresden or his Knight friend are supposed to be the ones with the happy endings. The monsters, professional or otherwise, are not. In fairytale logic, he's supposed to be miserable and alone and possibly with a huntsman's axe in his belly. Well, John has never been one to adhere strictly to tradition. Those Grimm brothers and Mr. Anderson can go jump into the lake for all he cares.
He's not a hero, but he'll make his own ending. And if his luck continues to hold, he'll won't do it alone. After all, the tiger may have the raw brute strength to conquer the jungle, but it is the delicate hand of the maiden who soothes away the savagery and brings balance. With this last thought, he turns to curl around the woman sleeping next to him. She wakes briefly as he does this, clasping his hand, twining her much smaller fingers with his, and bringing it to rest over her heart. The steady thrum that tells him all is well. Out of habit, he counts the beats like sheep, one, two, three, fou…
FIN.
Translations
Mi dispiace mia carissima. Ti ho spaventato – I'm sorry my dear. Did I scare you?
No, non realmente – No, not really
Stai bene – Are you alright / well
Sì, è stata una lunga giornata – Yes, it has been a long day
E tu – And you
Amabile – sweet (as in friendly, not taste)
